My William
by et-spiritus-sancti
Summary: A young woman is entangled in an unwanted engagement to the General's nephew. A certain colonel wonders if it's possible to love again. OC/T
1. Chapter 1

Hey folks! Need a break from the story I'm currently working on, so I decided to write this little one-shot vignette. Thanks for reading!

-sancti

**My William**

'Tis a strange thing that happens when one falls in love. It almost feels like you've been yanked into something you cannot escape. Like the very blood inside you will not flow unless you're with that person. They are your life source. Your everything. And what seems like the most wonderful feeling in the world can also be the worst—especially when you are not near him. When you cannot touch him. Or when you know you'll never see him again. The very thought stops your breath and your vision tosses, suddenly realizing that you've become one with this person, and without him, there is no life. There are no laughs. Joy has disappeared. There is no point in living.

How long must one wait until they can rejoin their one true love? How long will time stand against you, creeping by slowly with each lengthy, agonizing day? You continue to live here in misery, waiting for your time.

Why?

Why do you stay?

_For him._ She thought to herself. _Always for him._

Did she not promise to forever wait for his return? To greet him with loving, welcoming arms when he came back?

_Promises._ She pondered bitterly. What did he promise her? And even so, did it matter? Almost everything she knew about him was a lie. In a way, it was better that he was dead. She wasn't sure she'd be able to face him the same way again, knowing what he'd done. Oh, the horrible, unimaginable things he'd done. She'd been aware of his unofficial title, "The Butcher," but assumed it to be quite exaggerated.

However, she was wrong—so deadly wrong. But, oh, Lord did she miss him.

Angelica, or Ansley as her William affectionately called her, stood steadfastly in front of the wooden cross bearing the name of her dead fiancé. Grass had not yet grown over the fresh grave and it would not be green for some time. The gentle, but frosty gusts, mild remnants of the winter, played with the fallen and dead leaves and twirled them about the graves. William's tomb was one of about two dozen hastily dug graves outside the plains where the battle at Cowpens took place not long ago. There was no large stone monument with his name etched into the marble and surrounded by intricate carvings. No procession of mourners or ministers praying for him. There was only his Ansley. Perhaps the only person to miss a man thought to be horrible and treacherous by all. Ansley mulled over those words. Horrible? Treacherous?

Murderer?

He didn't seem so terrible when he held her in his arms at night, appreciating her warmth and love after so many days away from anything warm and adoring. He didn't seem so treacherous when he had awkwardly gotten to one knee, clearing his throat nervously and stumbling over the words asking for her hand in marriage. And he certainly did not appear murderous when he learned of their child that was to enter the world in nine months. No, he was not any of those things the people accused him of. He was only her William. The man that gave her the love her family had failed terribly to provide. That was her William.

But to everyone else, he was the "Butcher." A man to be feared and avoided at all costs. Were all the things said about him true? Did he murder children? Women? Innocent soldiers? Images flashed dreadfully through Ansley's mind. She tried to picture him slaying a child. It made her queasy to even imagine it. She next considered him shooting a woman, mercy found nowhere in the deep, azure orbs that also looked upon her with undying love.

Finding herself becoming upset, Ansley squeezed her eyes shut, the tears that had been welling now dribbling out and making warm trails down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, the cold metal of her engagement ring brushing against her pale skin. Ansley inhaled shakily, her breaths wheezing in and out from the tears in her throat.

Reasoning that it was probably time to leave, Ansley gathered her skirts and turned around, but stopped short. Her lips parted curiously at the man who stood visibly uncomfortably a few feet away. He had his tri-cornered hat in his hands, his tanned fingers tapping it nervously. He was probably in his mid-forties, and judging by his clothes and the manner in which he carried himself, Ansley guessed him to be a colonist. She couldn't help the frown that she felt on her features. For some years, it was drilled into her to dislike the colonists and consider them as ignorant farmers. So, naturally, a frown was in constant company whenever a colonist happened to appear.

Ansley was having a difficult time reading him. His eyes were sad and remorseful, his mouth stern and his strong jaw clenched. He continued to shift his weight from one foot to the other, gawking at her as if trying to figure her out just as much.

"Who are you?" Ansley demanded, the tears in her voice quite evident.

The man opened his mouth to answer, but closed it, pursing his lips. Taking a short breath, he tried again. "I'm a colonel with the Continental Army. I, uh—"

Ansley creased her forehead. "Why are you here?"

The graves that surrounded her fiancé's were all British. The American graves were on the opposite side. Was the man lost?

The colonel pointed hesitantly to the graves behind Ansley. "I've come to pay my respects, madam."

Ansley crossed her arms, tightening her shawl around her. "You're on the wrong side, Colonel." She spat, making her accent strong so there would be no doubt as to her nationality.

He made a nervous sort of chuckle, scratching the back of his head. "No, madam, I'm on the right side. I'm here to pray for the salvation of a particular man's soul."

Ansley felt something in her grow. Not hate, but stubbornness to let this man pass her. She felt it was her duty to stand here, defiantly protecting the men of her country. "Why pray for an enemy, Colonel?" Ansley's voice was quickly returning, the tears long forgotten.

He shrugged, shifting his weight again. "An enemy yes, but he still has a soul—somewhere."

Ansley felt her stubbornness subsiding and her form relaxed some. "And who do you intend to pray for?"

The American now scratched the side of his chin before answering. In a passing, insulting thought, Ansley wondered if the man had fleas or something. "A colonel, madam...a man I killed."

Ansley stared at him blankly, her eyes unblinking. A colonel? She turned slightly, her eyes perusing over the names on the crosses. Most of them were privates and corporals. A couple majors. There was only one colonel. Her colonel.

At that moment, she turned back to the colonist, hate evident in her gaze. "_You_ killed him?"

The color drained from the man's face and he took in a deep breath, grasping the fact that this woman was here for the same person. He bowed his head a moment, apparently waiting for something. Harsh words? Spittle? A slap? No, Ansley did none of these things, only stared at the man, her lower lip trembling. This was the being that took the greatest love she'd ever experienced away from her. He tore it out of her very hands.

Her delicate fingers curled into fists at her sides as she clenched and unclenched her hands. Her breathing quickened but she remained calm. She remembered William grumbling something about a certain foe of his. This, "Ghost," that really did seem to haunt him. Ansley had often wondered whether the Ghost had something against her fiancé in particular. Some unpaid debt. Or perhaps revenge?

"Are you the 'Ghost'?"

The man seemed somewhat surprised by the question and he raised his head to look at her. He must have expected some sort of retaliation by the young woman. A simple nod of his head told Ansley the truth. She sniffed, biting her lip. This answered a few questions she'd had.

"All I know is that Will—Colonel Tavington did something to you. I was never told the details."

The colonel's eyes reflected sadness again and they glazed a bit. "Yes, he did. He destroyed my life—a portion of it anyway."

He wasn't going to tell her. So Ansley could only guess that William had hurt this man's family in some fashion. Not really wanting to know how, Ansley sniffed again, the tears threatening to return.

"Well, sir, on behalf of the Colonel, you have my apologies for your sufferings—"

"Please, madam," The man held a hand up, gesturing for her to silence herself, "he did not apologize then, I don't believe it right for you to apologize for him now."

Ansley suddenly felt a pinch and wet warmth in her hands. She unclenched them, having forgotten the force she put upon them. Red liquid smeared them, her nails having dug into her palms enough to break skin. Her hands shaking, she hastily searched for a handkerchief. But without another moment passing, a dark green handkerchief appeared in front of her. Ansley looked up to see the colonel staring sympathetically and proffering the cloth. Ansley took it cautiously, wiping her hands.

"Keep it." He said matter-of-factly.

"I intend to." Ansley retorted.

His head bowed, the man walked past her to the spot Ansley had previously occupied. He crossed his hands, followed by making the sign of the cross. Ansley's brows drew together. A papist? Such people were rare in the colonies and often ostracized. Though she supposed if they kept a low profile, they could practice their Catholic ways freely. But this only added another dislike to the long list Ansley was forming against this man.

Still wiping her hands, Ansley watched him carefully. He looked completely at peace as he prayed. But sensing her stare, the man opened his blue eyes and shifted them, giving her a sidelong glance. Sighing, Ansley looked away, leaving him be. She walked a few feet away, removing the last of the blood that was starting to dry in between her fingers.

After some time, the Colonel finished and backed away from the grave. Ansley crossed her arms, waiting for him to do something, preferably to leave. He put on his hat and looked like he was about to grant Ansley's wish, but stopped, appearing to have a question.

"How did you know him?"

Ansley felt an uncomfortable lump form in her throat. "I...was his fiancée."

The Colonel squeezed his lids shut a moment. When he opened them, he fixed her with a remorseful gaze. He took a breath to speak, but she cut him off.

"Don't say you're sorry, Colonel," Ansley said frostily, "I know you aren't."

The man curled his lip, nodding. "What—what do you plan to do now?"

_Why must he make conversation?!_ She thought bitterly. Sighing impatiently, Ansley answered, "William had bought some land in Ohio as part of our wedding gift. I will probably settle there," She put a hand to the barely visible protrusion on her stomach, "raise his child...and wait for him, as always." She finished, the last words more for herself.

Scratching the side of his chin again, he grunted. "Mmhm...and, do you have, uh, sufficient funds to—to take care of—"

"I'm quite wealthy..." she paused, "thank you." She answered, somehow getting it across humbly.

"Well," the Colonel straightened his hat and cleared his throat, "good day to you, madam, and best of luck."

Ansley nodded coolly and was about to turn away, when a glint from the man's chest caught her eye. She stopped, long enough to see the small, metal trinket attached to a leather chord that hung from the man's neck and dangled at his mid-torso. It looked hauntingly familiar, and the man halted upon seeing her expression. He followed her gaze to the charm. Ansley tore her eyes away from it and down to her hand, to an engagement ring with a diamond cut neatly into the shape of the North Star. Tears returned as she pulled the ring off her finger, bringing it closer for examination. She remembered the night he gave it to her, saying he'd gotten it from a local tradesman. Try as she might, Ansley could not remember seeing a lie in his eyes. Then again, she'd had no reason to look for one.

A tear fell to the diamond, causing it to twinkle in the late afternoon sun. As more tears reddened her eyes, Ansley looked to the man, who'd stepped closer, his mouth slightly agape.

"He stole this from your home, didn't he?" Ansley choked out, the ring trembling in her shaking hands.

The man stared at the ring, his own pale blue eyes glossing over. "I thought it'd been lost when he burned my sister-in-law's house. I'd given it to her for safekeeping."

Afraid of such an answer, Ansley released a shaky breath. She moistened her dry lips, carefully wiping the salty water from the sparkling facets of the diamond.

Her heart wrenching at her decision, Ansley ignored it and hesitantly held the ring out to the colonel.

"This belongs to you." She said shakily.

The colonel stared longingly at the ring, then looked down to the necklace, holding the metal star against the sun's light, letting it reflect off it beautifully. He shook his head, giving Ansley a small, but sincere smile.

"We should all have something to remember our loved ones by. I have mine...you keep yours."

He then took her other hand, kissing it gently. Backing away, he gave a slight bow of his head and walked off towards the battlefield.

---

If you still hate Tavington, I don't blame you, but I figured **sometime** in his lifetime, **somebody** had to have liked the guy... :) thank you for reading and hope you all have a wonderful holiday!!

-sancti-


	2. Chapter 2

Hey folks! First, big hugs from Tavy and chocolate for the wonderful peeps who reviewed this!!

And, yeah, from prompting of reviewers and friends, I decided to make this "vignette" into a very short story. Maybe 5 or 6 chapters. The next chapter is more than twice as long as this one, I promise! Hope you enjoy!

--sancti--

South Carolina, 1779--2 years earlier

Ansley watched her fiancé passively from the opposite side of the ballroom. With one eyebrow arched annoyingly, the twenty-something woman observed the man who would be her husband.

_My husband._ She thought frostily. _Won't that be positively…dull. _Ansley could just imagine them on their wedding night. She'd be completely attentive and ready and he'd be balancing numbers in his head concerning the cost of her maternity clothes. Ansley had to smile at her own joke and she hid it successfully behind her glass of champagne as she took a delicate sip.

"Misses Hookar!" Ansley cringed at the mistake of the old woman who slowly closed the space between them, her cane clacking against the floor and her many skirts rustling loudly.

Ansley smiled politely. "Not yet, my Lady Moore. It's still Miss Parrish, I'm afraid."

The elder lady narrowed her eyes, crinkling the edges of them and causing her entire face to squeeze together. Ansley prayed she never lived long enough to look that old.

"I could have sworn I attended some wedding not long ago," She mumbled, her English accent crisp, "The bride wore an awful dress, made her look like a damned peacock!" She spat, striking her cane at the floor.

Ansley smirked and a small laugh tumbled out of her mouth. The woman was amusing, despite her nauseating perfume that was quickly putting out Ansley's appetite. "My Lady, I can assure you, my wedding dress will never resemble an exotic bird."

Lady Moore grunted in response. "Let's hope so," she turned to leave, but halted, eyeing Ansley with a cloudy blue eye, "Exactly when is the date, Miss Parrish?"

Ansley pursed her lips, then curved them into a tight smile. "We haven't set one yet, my Lady."

Young Miss Parrish excused herself, retreating to another quiet pocket of the ballroom. Most of the guests were on the dance floor, flitting about like something from a fairy tale. The gentlemen, some of them officers of his Majesty, were dressed handsomely, their uniforms crisp and professional. But all of the gentlemen held an air that said, "We are Englishmen, and you are not to forget it."

The women were like dolls that the men guided along the smooth ballroom floor. Their faces were powdered white, their wigs exquisite. Every lady had a false blush along her cheekbones and smooth, lush, red lips. The dresses were grandiose and festooned with jewels and silks that swished about and glittered in the candlelight. Ansley looked at them numbly. She'd been brought up just as they had, properly and luxuriously. And like many of them, she was forced into the same, unfortunate situations that graced the lives of rich little English women.

Feeling a snit darkening the already stormy cloud hovering above her head, Ansley drained the rest of the sweet, alcoholic nectar. A wine waiter seemed to be immediately at her side with a tray of a dozen full glasses of champagne.

"Another glass, madam?" He offered, his voice nasal and hollow as he eyed her with inert hazel eyes.

Ansley was about to decline, when her gaze strayed across the room to her fiancé. Their eyes locked and the smallest of an acknowledging smile graced his plain features before he turned them to a very young woman next to him with an impossibly large bosom. Ansley bit her lip until she thought it might bleed. When the waiter understood that she would not need his services, he walked past her, but Ansley gently stopped him by putting a hand to his arm. She gave him her empty glass and took a full one from the tray.

"You only live once." She murmured, taking a long swig from the glass, exhausting half of it.

Ansley then turned away from the scene of her future husband fawning over the little adolescent with his charms. She didn't bother excusing herself as she rudely made her way through the little crowds, receiving a gasp from some old woman and a, "Upon my word!" from an elderly gentleman. Finally, Ansley had broken away from the stifling swarm of powdered faces and champagne and slipped through a door. She had no clue where she was going, only that she was happy to be away from her revolting fiancé and that charade of a party.

The hallway she found herself in wasn't lit, and she relied on the bright moonlight that poured through the massive windows that lined the corridor on one side. The cold light reflected off several paintings which hung everywhere on the tall walls. With the aid of moonlight, Ansley could see the portraits clearly. They displayed the ancestors of the hosts of that night's festivity. Ansley stopped before a very large painting, a portrait taller than her, of a young man in uniform. By the style of his clothes, it looked to be early 17th century. Ansley liked it. She admired his strong jaw and the determined gaze in his striking green eyes, a detail the artist captured very well.

"Extraordinary, isn't it?"

The intelligent, smooth voice startled her and Ansley whipped around to face a man half covered in shadow. He leaned against the wall a few feet down, the moonlight revealing only half of his body. But it was enough to realize the man was an officer, a colonel, as Ansley could recognize insignia. From what she could tell, he was anywhere in his thirties. He had raven black hair that was tied tightly into a queue, as was custom. His left eye, dark and intense, stared at her with an unknown desire. Ansley wasn't sure if she should be scared. She kept her wits about her though and acted unafraid.

"You nearly startled me, Colonel." Ansley replied, nonchalantly smoothing over a spot on the front of her dress. Her other hand grasped the champagne glass tightly, ready to throw it at the man if he decided to get fresh.

"I apologize," He said with actual sincerity. He then turned his gape away from her and to the painting.

"You'd never know it was a fake, would you?" The man said matter-of-factly.

Ansley's brow creased. "A fake? Colonel, the Hirems are renowned art collectors--"

"With a false portrait in their possession. Obviously a copy--a despicable one at that. How did they ever think they'd convince guests it was the real thing?"

Ansley shrugged her slender, nearly bare shoulders. "Well, that doesn't make it a bad painting, per se. Only a bad copy."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he stood straight, walking towards her until he reached the painting. The colonel leaned against the wall again, beside the painting, as Ansley stood on the other side of the massive portrait. She could see him better now. He was tall, certainly over six feet. And definitely a delight to the eye. He carried a strong constitution and great confidence. Something Ansley's fiancé lacked considerably. In fact, it was almost embarrassing how sickly her fiancé could get and his weakness, oh, she could never imagine him riding forth into battle, as much as she wanted him to at times. But the man before her was the perfect example of what a real man was supposed to be. And she liked it.

"My dear! There you are!"

Ansley didn't even realize she'd been staring at the colonel. She shook herself out of her recent thoughts and risked a glance at the man as her fiancé came stalking down the hall towards them. The colonel was also staring at her, amusement in his gaze. She looked away when her fiancé reached them. He didn't seem particularly concerned, but annoyed at her brief disappearance.

"Why on earth are you in here, did you get lost trying to find the powder room?" Ansley felt like spitting at his homely face in response to the question. His query made her sound like an idiot once again.

"Of course not, Wesley. It's simply such a beautiful house, I decided to explore."

He didn't seem to notice the colonel standing a few feet behind them. Either he knew he was there and ignoring him, or the man was really that oblivious. Ansley saw her fiancé roll his eyes, the moonlight glinting off them.

"Good God, woman! What was the Almighty _thinking_ when he created you?!" Wesley spat.

Ansley was nearly eye-level with the man and she could never be intimidated by him. She let him know that the insult did not sting by staring hard at him.

"_Darling," _Ansley said sarcastically, "meet Colonel, um,--"

"Tavington." The colonel spoke for the first time since Wesley entered the hall. His voice was different somehow. Icy and unwelcoming. Wesley narrowed his eyes at he looked away from Ansley to the colonel, who had his hand out waiting for it to be shaken.

Wesley gave this "Tavington" as once-over before tentatively shaking the man's hand. "Colonel." Wesley said, snatching his hand away and turning to Ansley.

"Come, Angelica, we must leave at once. We have an early morning." He restlessly put out his elbow for Ansley to slip her arm through.

Sighing, Ansley complied, curtseying slightly to Tavington. "A pleasure meeting you, Colonel."

The officer nodded his head. "And you, madam."

-----

I have the next chapter complete and will upload it next week. But, should I continue or dump it?


	3. Chapter 3

YaY! You guys are so cool! Review responses at the bottom! Enjoy the insanity of my imagine!

Chapter 3:

Ansley barely had time to secure her shawl around her shoulders when Wesley dragged her out of the mansion. None of the other guests had begun to leave, so they were alone besides the guards outside the house. Their coach was already waiting for them, with the driver at the door, ready to help the lady into the carriage.

Wesley had his arm locked with Ansley's and he pulled her along across the courtyard to the coach. She let the driver assist her into the carriage, plopping down into one of the cozy seats. A moment later, Wesley climbed into the dimly lit interior, flipping his coat tails so he could sit with comfort next to Ansley. The little door slammed shut, the curtains rustling from the disturbance. Ansley's skin crawled as she felt Wesley next to her. She had a sudden impulse to move to the other side of the coach, but resisted, as she would surely be reprimanded. A second more, and the coach jolted as it moved forward. And Ansley waited. She waited for her fiancé's harsh words. And as predicted, they came in a matter of a few seconds.

"How dare you disappear like that." He spat, glaring out at the dark woods the coach passed.

Ansley narrowed her green orbs at the man. "I did not 'disappear', Wesley."

"For God's sake, Angelica, a woman is supposed to practically hang off her fiancé's shoulder!" He almost yelled, but was amazingly keeping his voice calm, albeit laced with anger.

"And my fiancé is not supposed to practically breathe down another woman's chest!" Ansley retorted, her voice this time reaching a decibel that could be considered yelling.

Wesley spun his head to look at her, the light of the lantern hung inside glinting off his eyes. "You dare to accuse me of infidelity?!"

"I only know what I see." Ansley replied frostily.

Wesley tried to conjure up a proper response, but his brain, not surprisingly, failed him once again and he looked away. Ansley smiled to herself, grateful to have won this battle, even though, ultimately, she knew that she would lose the war.

---

The coach came to a gradual stop outside the doors of Middleton Place, the Lord General Cornwallis' current home, as well as Ansley's and Williams, until General Cornwallis conquered something else, and they'd move to the more balmy conditions of North Carolina. Wesley was the Lord General's eldest, and most liked nephew. Cornwallis considered Ansley's fiancé to be clever, practical, and good with money. He also liked that his favorite nephew was an accountant of a rather large shipping business back in England. When Cornwallis heard of Wesley's impending marriage, he'd arranged for the two to be shipped immediately to the colonies.

_I humbly invite you to my current address so that you may see with your own eyes the beauty of this land in which I will be imparting a portion of to you come time of your marriage and the cessation of war, _he'd written. Ansley wasn't too keen on up and leaving England, but Wesley demanded her presence here. She was less than impressed with the land and even more so with the idea that she'd have to endure the torment of staying here the rest of her life, all because of her soon-to-be uncle's generous gift which she could not refuse. Wesley was thrilled.

"Imagine it, Angelica! Flourishing land as far as the eye can see! The sun constantly on your face! That's right, even when you lock yourself away in your room with those stupid books of yours, the sunshine will glow inside!" Such is what Wesley had been explaining to her on the journey to the New World. The man had no appreciation for the fact that Ansley's skin burned easily and she found herself only able to endure the sun for a short time if she had no parasol or shade from a tree. Ansley also disliked the insects and the stifling, hot moisture of the air. Wesley insisted that not all of the New World was like South Carolina. But by the first few days of their arrival, Ansley was quite ready to return home.

That had been two months ago. The two weeks they'd spent moving their things from the previous fort to this one. Ansley disliked the constant comings and goings of military personnel, but the beauty of the gardens and mansion were undeniable. And she'd stare at the gardens from the comfort of her bedchamber window as she sewed her intricate wedding vale diligently.

Wesley ushered her out of the coach, tossing a coin to the driver who caught it, examined its worth, then grunted with dissatisfaction before pocketing the money. By this time, Wesley seemed to have overcome his little mood and felt he was back in control. Without a word, he led his fiancée up the grand staircase and towards their rooms. Stopping outside Ansley's room, he gave a slight bow, taking her hand and giving it a peck.

"Good night, Angelica."

Ansley wasn't quite sure what overcame her when she snatched her hand away. And she was even shocked when she grabbed her fiancé's coat and pulled him to her, landing a kiss to his lips that would most certainly be thought scandalous. Wesley shuddered and pulled away instantly, a hand covering his mouth. His face was bright red, with anger Ansley guessed.

"What in bloody hell is wrong with you, woman?!" He screeched, confirming Ansley's deduction.

She crossed her arms tightly. "You never kiss me, Wesley. Nor do you show me any affection, am I that repulsing to you?!"

Wesley stuttered with his answer. "W--wha--well, oh, damn you, don't you realize how inappropriate that was?!"

"Inappropriate? I'm to marry you--whenever you feel the time is convenient!" She muttered.

His brow creased and the red dissipated from his face. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Wesley, it has been a year and we have not even set a date!"

He scoffed, glancing around them to make sure no one was listening. Then he closed the space between them, their noses inches apart. "If you were the least bit attentive to anything besides yourself, you would notice that I have been a tad _busy_!" He hissed, "How can you blame me for the delay of the wedding when _I_ have been the one working, _I_ have been the one bringing in money, and it is _I _who has the connections to ensure we live in luxury and harmony once the war ends?! I _brought_ you to this land, for Christ's sake!"

Ansley clenched her fists to keep from striking the man. "And if you paid the slightest attention to _me_, you'd realize I'm unhappy with the place, I hate it! I hate this war, and this land, and those stupid woman you force me to socialize with, I hate it all!" With this, Ansley whipped away, flinging her bedchamber door open, and then slamming it shut, leaving her fuming fiancé alone in the dim hall.

---

Ansley didn't feel like crying. Instead, she wanted to fling something great and heavy at the large-paned window that overlooked the beautiful gardens of Fort Carolina. Ansley actually did pick up the sculptured bust that belonged to the previous owners of the house and raised it above her head, aiming for the window. But her strength failed her, and she crumpled to the floor, placing the marble head carefully beside her. She sat there only a moment, before realizing she was mussing one of her nicest gowns. She groaned in annoyance as she heard her mother's voice in her head:

_Angelica Marie Parrish, remove yourself from that floor this instant! Are you a beast that would crawl on all fours?!_

Ansley pushed herself off the tightly knit rug that covered the length of the wood floor. Brushing herself off, she began the extensive process of removing the many parts of her clothing. She did not bother calling upon a servant to help her. She wanted to be alone. And alone she stayed, though Ansley constantly expected to hear a soft rap on her door, being it either her fiancé or a servant. But no one came.

---

The grandfather clock tolled midnight and Ansley listened to its sad song echo twelve strikes. She wasn't sure what Wesley had meant when he said they "had an early morning." She did not remember him planning anything of the sort, which made her question the need for leaving the ball so early. Ansley huffed a sigh as she turned on her side in her bed to stare out the window, which she hadn't bothered drawing the curtains in front of. The moon was still bright, and no clouds hindered its light from pouring over the land. Thinking over the night's events, Ansley could almost laugh at the expression Wesley had when she'd kissed him. Truth be told, she'd only done it as an experiment--for two reasons. One, to have the slightest idea what kind of lover he'd be. And two, to punish him in the only way she knew how for embarrassing her. To answer her first inquiry, Ansley found the kiss to be quite unpleasant. Wesley had a very small, awkward mouth that was difficult to kiss. And his breath smelled like old cheese. She would never kiss him like that again--ever. She'd shoot herself first, or at least consume a great amount of vodka.

Feeling restless, Ansley swung her feet to the floor, sliding them into silk slippers. Then taking the robe from the armchair near the bed, she slipped it over her thin shift, flipping out her wavy hair. Moving silently to her door, she unlatched it, wincing as a creak emitted from its hinges. Once open enough, she slipped out, and stepped noiselessly through the house towards the gardens.

The cool night air greeted Ansley with welcoming arms and she smiled genuinely for the first time in a long while. The Spanish moss dangling from the large trees moved softly in the wind. The flowers emitted a sweet scent that could be intoxicating if breathed too deeply. And inhale deeply she did, taking in all the perfumes of the night. The night. Ironic how it was only when that part of their planet was turned away from the light, that Ansley felt most secure, yet free at the same time.

Ansley felt the hard, cold cobblestones through her silk slippers, and her feet began to protest this unusual stress. She ignored their plea and continued her midnight stroll. Ansley halted in front of a patch of roses, whose blooms showed signs of closing with Autumn not far off.

"Beautiful country, is it not?"

Suddenly, every propriety that had been drilled into her since the time of cognizance surged through her and Ansley realized she was hardly clad properly--and a man was in her midst. On instinct, Ansley tightened her robe around her thin shift before turning to the direction of the voice. The moon's light was still unhindered, and she needn't look far for the source of her disruption.

"C--colonel?"

He sat hunched on a marble bench a few yards away at the outer perimeter of the garden, which backed up to a wooded area. He was still in uniform, his black leather gloves next to him. He didn't look at her, but instead stared past her to the high brick wall that separated them from the prairie. After a moment, his gaze shifted to her, his expression deadpan.

"So you are the fiancé of the Lord General's nephew that he's mentioned?" He said with curiosity.

Ansley felt a loathing at the reference to that swine of a man who would be her husband. "At the moment." She murmured.

This seemed to pique the colonel's interest even more and he cocked his head. "Uh oh, that doesn't sound good." He quipped, a playful tone in his voice.

_What are you doing, Ansley? You're in your bed-clothes talking to a stranger!_ "That is none of your concern Colonel--Tavington, was it?"

He let the remark slide without reaction. "That's right. Unfortunately, the only name I have for you is Angelica, and the--at the moment--future Misses Hookar."

Ansley sighed, crossing her arms. "I'm afraid neither of those will suffice, sir. But you may call me Miss Parrish. Now, Colonel, you know why I am here, but why do you stay at Middleton Place?"

The Colonel stood, and in reflex, Ansley took a step back, though she was still several yards away from him. He came closer, stopping in front of Yellow Jessamine that was being carefully grown on wooden stakes, its vibrancy also dulling. Ansley stood on the other side of it, watching the Colonel closely.

"My duties occasionally bring me to Middleton Place," Tavington explained, "and the Middletons are kind enough to offer the luxuries of their home to his Majesty's officers."

The answer relieved Ansley's nerves somewhat. The Colonel, however, seemed to be itching to say something as he drew his hands behind him.

"Forgive me for being blunt, Miss Parrish," He began, "but exactly _why_ did you choose to become engaged with Mr. Hookar? I observed his behavior toward you…it was less than affectionate, to say the least."

The blood rushed to Ansley's head as anger dangerously brimmed upon her visage, "That _is_ blunt, Colonel," she replied bitterly, "and also none of your concern."

The silence that followed was extremely uncomfortable. Ansley considered stomping away to show just how she felt about him, but she found her feet were rooted to the ground like the plants in the garden. Ansley did look away from him though, fixing her gaze past him and to the woods.

"It was arranged," she finally confessed. Ansley shifted her eyes to the colonel who shook his head slightly.

"Well, that's unfortunate." He murmured.

Ansley felt her brow crease and a newfound courage spiked. "And what is that supposed to mean?" She snapped.

It was then that Ansley sensed another aroma in the air. It was distinct, and it made her insides curl. The unmistakable scent of alcohol had finally made its way to her olfactory system and sent off several warnings. She had something else to add to her current predicament--not only was she inappropriately clothed and alone with a man in her midst--but with a man who had been drinking. All such ingredients made a recipe for trouble.

"Take it as you will." He said calmly, answering her question.

"Are you drunk, Colonel?" Ansley decided to ask, her voice wavering some.

The man smirked, staring at her in that same way as he did at the ball--with an unknown desire. "Probably, my dear. But I wouldn't be too concerned. I've been told that I'm actually quite dull when intoxicated."

He shifted his weight to one foot and Ansley felt her frame start. She silently admonished herself for being so obvious in her discomfort. He did notice and gawked at her curiously.

"Well, not to be rude, sir, but it is late and this situation is quite inappropriate. Good night." Ansley said all this as she turned away and headed towards the back door of the mansion, her silk slippers padding softly on the cobblestones. She could feel his eyes on her as she fled to the sanctuary of the manor. When she reached the back door, she scrambled inside, shutting it quickly. With her back against the cold wood of the door, Ansley shut her eyes, feeling her heart thump against her chest. Drawing in deep breaths, the young woman opened her lids slowly, peering into the quiet darkness. Ansley shuddered as she remembered the look in the colonel's eerie, opaque eyes.

She made her way briskly to her room, stopping at any sound heard. She only felt truly comfortable once she was back in her bedchamber with the door locked and the curtains drawn.

---

BANG! BANG! BANG!

It sounded like cannon fire.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

And for a moment, Ansley thought it was. But the booms of the cannon eventually quieted to a simple knock on her door. The fuzziness of sleep still clung to the young woman as she left the dream world to return to the real one. She must of mumbled a, "come in," because her servant, Winifred, opened the door, entering swiftly. The spry little woman went immediately to the large window, throwing the curtains open, allowing the blinding morning light to enter. Ansley groaned in pain, hiding her head under a pillow.

"Now, now, Miss Parrish, there's no reason to hide from the sun!" She pointed out in her choppy cockney accent.

Winifred went to work pulling the day's clothes out of the closet and gathering scented oils and soaps for Ansley's impending bath. With her head still under a pillow, Ansley listened to the woman move about. But new footsteps suddenly entered the room, and she didn't like the sound of them.

"Winifred, you're excused for now." The slightly nasal voice ordered.

Ansley whipped her head out from under the pillow in time to see her servant curtsy and then leave, shutting the door behind her. Ansley threw a frown to her fiancé, who was helping himself to the small bowl of pistachios that she always kept in her room. Pouring some into his hand, he then made his way to the end of her bed, a frown accompanying him as well.

With a sigh, he began, "I thought we might be able to talk in a _civilized_ manner about a few things that were mistakenly said last night." Wesley explained, popping another of the greenish nuts into his small mouth.

Ansley scoffed, throwing the covers off and watching with hidden amusement as Wesley cringed and looked away, as she was still in her thin nightgown. She worked slowly, stretching her arms lazily, feelings the joints pop, before sauntering over to the window-bench where she'd thrown her robe.

"I didn't say anything by mistake," Ansley retorted as she gradually slipped on her robe. Wesley still had his back to her, but she could recognize the immediate stiffness in his frame when he was angry and trying to control it.

"Are you decent?" He growled, biting off each word.

"Yes."

He spun around, quickly closing the space between them. His face had turned the most interesting shade of red and his little mouth was so pursed, Ansley thought the lips might fuse together.

"Listen to me, girl," he hissed, his face inches from hers, "I am not a man who will tolerate your sarcasm and disrespect. For months now, I've been _trying_ to make you happy, _trying_ to make you comfortable an--and you might as well spit in my face!" He snapped.

Fearing that her fiancé was reaching the very end of his patience, Ansley chose her words carefully.

"As I said last night, if you paid any attention to what I actually need, we wouldn't even be having this conversation!" Ansley breezed past him, sitting down at her vanity dresser and running a brush through her long chestnut hair.

Wesley stayed rooted to his spot and neither of them said anything for nearly a minute. Heaving a great, dramatic sigh, Wesley turned on his heal and made for the door, stopping behind Ansley first. He stared at her reflection in the mirror and Ansley stared at his.

"When the war ends, we'll marry. We will stay here, graciously accept the land my uncle has promised us, have a family and be quite happy whether you like it or not. Your father promised you to me and I intend on keeping you."

With that, the man treaded heavily out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Ansley had gone frozen as he spoke, the brush having stopped mid-stroke through her hair. She stared at her pale complexion in the mirror. She didn't like his tone. Not one bit. And for the first time, Ansley realized she really was going to marry that horrible worm. There was no escaping the inevitable--not without losing her well-guarded honor.

---

Ohh, I can't wait to upload the next chapter, so many more goodies!!! Here are review responses, you guys are soooo awesome!!!

**Tigerchild: **Yay! You came back! I'm happy I continued this too, it's been so much fun to write. Thank you for reviewing, and you definitely get more chocolate and Tavy hugs for returning :D.

**The Kitten: **LMBO, thank you, Katie :D. And, well, things didn't get too awful "frisky" here, but methinks you'll rather enjoy the next chapter, heeheehee. Thank ya bunches!

**Whore d' Will Turner: **Aw, geezy, you're making me blush! Oh, really, it's not super accurate, I'm sure, lol, but I try to research stuff as much as I can so I don't sound like a ninny. Aww, that's so nice of you to say, I just really hope I can get Tavington to sound like Tavy and not some dolt I've made up in my head, lol. Thank you bunches for reviewing, you're my hero! :D

**acdecnerd: **Thank you so much, I'm ecstatic that you like it! Thank you for reviewing! Tavy thanks you too!

**Jeangray666: **YAY! I love enthusiasm! gives pompoms you've been granted the honorary title of Most Enthusiastic Reviewer! Tells Tavy to give jeangray a hug  
Tavy: B--but, she's got pompoms! Pompoms scare me!  
Me: GIVE HER A HUG, CONFOUND IT ALL!  
smiles sweetly thank you for reviewing :D.

**dude-monkey: **grins evilly…muahahahaha! Perhaps I do like Tavy…teehee. Well, truth be told, I've always admired his character and how evil it is, but now I admit melikes the cheeky bastard :D. Thank you bunches for reviewing!!!

Gummy bears and Tavy hugs to all! Unless some of you like Wesley (gag), you can hug him too, if you want. Just don't expect him to be happy about it!8) C yas next week, folks!

-sancti-


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter4

Ansley gasped as Winifred tightened the strings of her corset. A little yelp escaped again as she felt her waist compress and her breasts lift. As God was her witness, before she died, she would create a corset that was infinitely more comfortable. Though it seemed impossible for the corset to tighten more, it did and Ansley repressed a whimper.

Winifred narrowed her eyes and looked around at Ansley, who had a white-knuckle grip on the bed post.

"Are you all right, Miss Parrish?" She asked with concern.

Ansley turned her head to look at the servant, a dark frown on her pale, pretty features. "Would you please just finish, Winnie?"

Shrugging, the servant continued to tighten the strings of the horrid contraption. To free her mind of pain and discomfort, Ansley thought of other things. Quickly bypassing the thought of Wesley, she found her troubled reflections decided to land on that Dragoon colonel.

"Winifred?" Ansley said between a pained gasp.

"Yes, Miss Parrish?"

"Do you know a certain Colonel Tavington?"

The pull of the strings halted momentarily before they started up again. "Yes, Miss Parrish, the colonel stays here often enough."

"What is he like?"

If at all possible, Winifred tugged harder, causing Ansley's entire frame to jolt. "Well, it's not my place to answer such questions, Miss Parrish." She said in a way that a schoolteacher might scold a pupil.

Winnie finally tied off the last strings and reached for the bodice of the dress, handing it to Ansley. "Why'd you want to know about him, anyway?" She asked curiously, eyeing Ansley with an inquiring gray eye and a stiff upper lip.

Thinking fast, Ansley answered as nonchalantly as possible. "Oh, simply curious. I'd met him at the ball last night, but we had only enough time for pleasantries. He seems like an interesting individual."

The skeptical look on Winnie's aged face slowly dissipated as she straightened the bodice and fluffed the flowing sleeves to her satisfaction. "Well, Miss Parrish, I believe you should keep your acquaintance with the colonel as just that-an acquaintance. You don't want trouble with _that _man." She warned, murmuring the last sentence.

Not getting the chance to further question this, Winnie quickly handed Ansley her cream silk satin shoes before hurrying out of the bedroom. Only more curious now, Ansley fixed her hair as best she could, letting it flow about her shoulders before going down to breakfast.

-

The morning was quite uneventful. Ansley played a game of chess with Mr. Middleton after breakfast (which the kind old gentleman won in seven moves) and spent most of her time in the library, perusing through different books of different genres. Wesley didn't speak to her at all, not during breakfast, teatime, or any time he happened to pass her. And Ansley was content with that. She found she didn't want to converse with him either.

Ansley looked up from the rather old copy of _Utopia _as Winnie came into the library, a duster in tow. The servant fixed the young woman with a frown.

"It's a right gorgeous day out there, Miss Parrish," Winnie pointed out, running the feather duster along the old, cracked tomes, "Shame on you for staying cooped up like a bloody bat inside this place."

Ansley smiled at the woman's bluntness. Winifred wasn't one to hold her tongue very often, especially around Ansley, who was usually never offended by the woman's candid remarks. Sighing, Ansley shut the book, and started to the doors.

"Winnie, I think I shall take a short nap. Wake me at dinner." She instructed.

Winifred mumbled something that could be considered a response as Ansley left the room. Ansley knew that Winnie wanted her to go out into the gardens and admire the growth.

"_You need some right color to those cheeks of yours, Miss Parrish, you're going to fall ill!" _She'd memorably said at one time.

Ansley didn't want to see the gardens; she wanted to explore something far more enchanted. She reached a window facing the woods beyond the house. The trees stretched for some way, and suddenly, walking beneath their branched shelter sounded delightful. But no one would let her go without a chaperone. Scowling at the idea of some dolt following her around, Ansley remembered what she'd told Winnie.

"_I think I'll take a short nap. Wake me at dinner."_ Smiling to herself, Ansley made for the back door. If she could just travel the woods until dinner, no one would know.

-

It'd been easier than she thought. Running into no one, Ansley made for the woods at a quick pace, sheltering herself from the sun as she passed into the trees. A horse trail had been worn down and Ansley followed it, taking in everything around her. Birds chirped happily in the canopy of branches above her, and somewhere, the scent of the wild Yellow Jessamine was still blooming, it's sweet aroma bursting in the air. Ansley sighed happily, feeling that small sense of freedom she thought she could only grasp at night. The wind was gentle, and zephyrs played with the fallen golden and brown leaves. Ansley stopped upon hearing something else-the distant noise of water. Turning towards the pleasant sound, Ansley went off the path, following the noise. After some time, with the horse trail quite out of sight, Ansley came upon a nearly crystal clear pool with water gently fitting through an aperture in the rock wall. It was enough to keep the pool moving as it flowed smoothly into a thinner stream down the hill.

Ansley couldn't help but grin at the sight and for a moment, a risky idea entered her mind. Blushing at her own desires, the young woman sighed, planning on walking away in search of the trail, but she halted. What did it matter? No one would be this deep in the woods, and if someone asked of her whereabouts, Winifred would say she was taking that nap. A mere few minutes would do no harm. And it was only barely after noon. Ansley hurried back to the pool, getting to her knees and putting her hand in to feel the water. It was ice cold. Ansley bit her lip. It would certainly be refreshing. Finally making a decision, Ansley started to untie her bodice.

-

Ansley had nearly yelped when she first stepped into the frigid water, but as soon as it washed away the perspiration that had formed on her brow and neck, the young woman grinned in glee. Again, true happiness was found away from the manor, the war, and stifling politics. She was free, in every meaning of the word. Feeling the cool water enveloping her skin, Ansley sighed in pleasure. She treaded water for a few minutes, just relishing in its cleanliness and crisp cooling affect. She then let herself go under, not caring the slightest that her entire head and all her hair were now wet. Coming back to the surface, Ansley cranked her head up, seeing the sun wink through the thick canopy of the trees, whose branches swayed gently in the occasional waft of wind. She again caught the scent of the Yellow Jessamine somewhere in the woods, though it was stronger and probably closer than before.

So engrossed in her bliss, Ansley did not hear the footsteps approach behind her near where she'd hung her more comfortable, blood red summer dress and her undergarments on a low tree branch. She did not even notice his intrigued gaze upon her. No, it was only his knack for surprising her that finally caught her attention.

"You know, it's not very smart for a young lady to expose herself while all alone in the woods. You never know who could happen upon her."

The words sent a chill colder than the water down Ansley's spine. Her breath caught and she almost stopped treading water. Her lower lip trembling, Ansley turned her head to look at the source of the voice. The colonel had his foot up on a low rock near the edge of the water, his arm resting on his bent knee. He fixed her with an amused smirk and cocked his head thoughtfully.

"You know, every time we meet, you seem to be more exposed...what will our next encounter be like, I wonder?" His words were playful, and Ansley couldn't detect a threat. But her hands shook in the water with embarrassment, fear, and shame.

-

"Now, you have to parry my strike, you can't just whack me anyplace you please!" Tavington repositioned Ansley's hands on the branch, watching as she stifled giggles.

"Like this?" Her hands moved from the correct position and the colonel sighed sharply in frustration as he situated her hands on the branch properly again.

"Don't move them." He ordered frostily. Returning to his spot, he motioned for her to come at him with her stick.

Ansley tripped forward to strike, her feet stumbling under her and she toppled backwards in a fit of giggles. Rolling his eyes, Tavington dropped his stick, helping her back to the log, where he'd gotten a small fire going earlier. Finally getting her to sit without tumbling over, she then signaled for the bottle of port wine next to Tavington.

"I do believe another drink will do me some good!" Ansley slurred as she reached past Tavington.

The colonel grasped the bottle, putting it back into the rucksack on his steed's saddle. The woman had certainly drunk enough.

"No more port for you, Miss Parrish." He said in a no-nonsense manner, much to the woman's chagrin. She pouted and tightened the red and green Dragoon jacket that Tavington had given her once she was properly dressed, minus her corset, which she had carelessly tossed to the ground. Sitting back down next to Ansley, he stirred the fire a bit, throwing a few more branches into it. He didn't need the heat, but the girl was freezing from her little skinny-dipping escapade. Tavington had also supplied her with the port, knowing it would warm her insides. But the young lady continued to take sip after sip until she'd drained nearly half the bottle.

Ansley sighed happily, staring into the fire. She then whipped around to face the colonel with a half-serious expression on her features. "Aren't you supposed to be leadin' some cavalry charge or whatnot?" She asked quite ungracefully.

Tavington made a half smile. "I have a few days furlough, though I have no idea what to do with myself. I'm not accustomed to taking leave."

Ansley's brow creased thoughtfully. "You certainly seem like a real stickler when it comes to the army, don't you?" She pointed out drunkenly. Tavington also observed that her speech was devoid of its usual proper English slant and was replaced with a bubbly Irish accent.

Chuckling at her question, Tavington looked away, concentrating on a squirrel a few yards away. "The military is my life, Miss Parrish," he turned his attention to her, "I know nothing else."

Ansley nodded her head one too many times, and then balled her fist, playfully punching Tavington's shoulder. "Tell me about your life, Colonel Tav-lov-ton," She asked, her words slurring again, "Seriously, you have a wife? Children? Sweetheart?"

Tavington didn't like the questions and considered breaking off the conversation there, but the look in her large, moist and intoxicated eyes convinced him that she'd probably forget everything he said by the next morning, therefore telling her would bring no harm.

"No, I don't, Miss Parrish."

She nodded comprehendingly. "Right, well then, did you _ever_ have any wives, children, sweethearts?" Ansley asked dramatically.

Hoping in her drunken state that the girl would forget she could ask the question in that form, Tavington sighed in annoyance, biting back the bitter retort, "It's none of your business." Instead, he pursed his lips, deciding how to approach this.

"I _did_ have a sweetheart. I was twenty-one and stupid, she was seventeen and whimsical."

Ansley raised a dark, thin eyebrow, her mouth parting some. "Annnd?" She prodded.

"And, we had a stupid, whimsical relationship." He stated, his tone deadpan.

Scoffing, Ansley elbowed him in the ribs, her practically dry hair falling into his face for a moment. Tavington caught the faint scent of the soap in her hair, nearly making him dizzy before she pulled away. "Why don't you share an anecdote, Colonel?" Ansley suggested, resting an elbow on her knee and cupping her chin in her hand. She stared at him seriously, waiting for the story.

Tavington gazed down at the fire again, remembering the face of dear Elena. That little girl of Italian descent with big dreams and chocolate eyes that could melt a man with one look.

"I met her through my father's business, the selling of quite grand antiquities. I believe we might have been in love, and perhaps would have married if she hadn't suffered from consumption-tuberculosis to be exact." He remembered her steady decline. The coughing fits, and the blood that would accompany it. Eventually, he was forbidden to see her because of her state and the possibility of him catching the disease.

Shortly after her death, Tavington learned that Elena's father, an ardent explorer and historian who helped supply Mr. Tavington's business, had picked it up during his travels, though he hadn't died from it. But it did manage to pass on to Elena, obviously. Grieving and in rage, Tavington acted rashly and made it quite clear that he thought Elena's death was her father's fault-and the old man earned a broken nose because of it (and possibly more if the scuffle hadn't been broken up). Needless to say, the partnership between Tavington's and Elena's fathers was severed quite abruptly.

Realizing he wasn't speaking, but pondering intently, Tavington glanced over at the girl, who was still staring at him, but looking quite close to passing out.

"Perhaps that's a tale for another time, Miss Parrish." He said bitterly.

She nodded, turning away to look towards the steadily setting sun. It was a startlingly beautiful sunset. Pink, red, orange and yellow were smeared across the sky like they'd been painted by a celestial brush.

"Hm," Ansley suddenly said pensively, "I told Winnie that I'd taken a nap…and I was to be woken at dinner." She said this so nonchalantly, that it took a moment for Tavington to realize the seriousness of the situation. Ansley apparently didn't care, because a second later, she promptly slumped onto Tavington's shoulder-completely passed out.

-

After securing the woman on his horse, he'd ridden the steed at a good speed, knowing time was of the essence. It was nearing six o'clock, and soon a servant would be knocking on Ansley's door, and Ansley might not be there. Stopping near the manor, Tavington slid the dead asleep woman from the horse, carrying her to the back door and slipping through the servant's quarters to reach the second level. Making sure no one was passing, the colonel hurriedly made his way to the guest bedrooms, hoping he'd chosen the correct room when he entered it. Sure enough, the gown that Ansley had worn to the ball the night before was still hanging near the bureau. He gently placed the sleeping, and lightly snoring Ansley on her bed. First removing his Dragoon uniform jacket and then heading to her desk, where parchment and a quill pen were waiting for use. Trying to imagine a woman's delicate, wavy handwriting, Tavington wrote carefully, _"I've come down with a frightful headache, and will not be disturbed for dinner nor breakfast." _Satisfied enough, Tavington spared one more glance at the sleeping girl before sneaking quickly and quietly out of the room and placing the note outside the door.

-

_She stood near the pool, watching the water flow and listening to its pleasant song. And that was the only thing she heard. No birds chirped, no trilling of insects, even the trees did not move. Only the water. She stared at her reflection, observing all the unsightly parts of herself, or what she thought was ugly. Her huge eyes that could frighten a man away. Her pale and colorless skin. Her dry, unmanageable hair that fell in waves to her waist. She hated it all. Bending down, she put one hand in the water, but instead of it being cold, it was scalding hot and she yanked her hand away with a gasp. Holding the burnt hand to her chest, she backed away from the pool, turning around to come to a sudden halt because of the obstruction in her path. _

_He stared down at her with those ice-shattering eyes that held her captive. Without warning, the man laced his arms around her waist, pulling her to him like she was a doll without control over her own actions. She couldn't feel his warmth and though her body was pressed against his, she felt no heartbeat in his chest. No gentle thump that indicated life. Yet her own heart hammered so loudly, she could hear the blood pulsing in her ears. He swept a strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear, but he then kept it there, gently massaging her temple. When he felt she was ready, he leaned his head down and-"_

"Miss Parrish!"

Ansley's body jolted and she yelped at the interruption of her deep sleep. Sitting straight up in her bed, Ansley suddenly groaned as a gigantic wave of pain tumbled down on her head like an avalanche of rocks and she fell back into the pillows.

"Miss Parrish, are you all right?"

Remembering the voice on the other side of the door, Ansley recognized it belonging to Winifred.

"Yes, Winnie, I'm fine, leave me be, will you?"

A pause followed before footsteps were heard, which quickly dissipated. Ansley moaned as the headache pounded mercilessly, and through the pain, she tried to remember exactly what had transpired.

After thoroughly embarrassing herself to the point where Ansley wanted to drown, the colonel had been kind enough to offer a fire and a drink. Since staying nude in the water didn't sound like the best idea, she'd made sure Tavington was out of sight before dressing and following his freshly made footprints in the dirt. They talked for some time, Ansley complaining about her problems, not caring anymore that it didn't concern the man one bit. But she needed someone to complain to, and if he was willing to listen, he was going to get an earful.

Ansley tried to remember specifics, but after a while things became cloudy. She recalled drinking quite a bit of that port (most likely the cause of her pounding head) and saying a few things she probably shouldn't have. The rest of it turned into a fuzzy scene and Ansley couldn't get anything straight. She must have blacked out at one point, because she knew she certainly couldn't carry herself all the way up the stairs without being noticed, not in that state anyway. With a sudden realization, Ansley grasped that the colonel probably carried her here. _That's_ when she remembered the dream she'd woken up from. The blood rushed to Ansley's cheeks and her insides curled in shame upon recalling what her subconscious obviously thought and wanted. But what frightened her even more-she liked it.

-

Making herself look presentable for a late breakfast was a miracle in itself and Ansley thanked the Lord for his obvious intrusion. She'd somehow gotten her hair into a descent enough bun, the lake water apparently did something to relieve the usual frizz in her tresses. After scrubbing her face silly and making that fit to be seen, she finally let Winnie in to assist her with her corset. Winnie asked no questions when she saw the scowl on Ansley's face. So when the grandfather clock hit ten, an hour and a half after breakfast was formally served, Ansley was as presentable as she was going to be as she descended the stairwell and headed for the dining room. Everyone had obviously finished long ago except for one particular individual who ate in silence, but Ansley could immediately detect the discomfort in the atmosphere.

Wesley stood, pulling out the chair next to him for his fiancée. Though a headache was still in company, Ansley somehow managed a polite nod and sat down gracefully. Going back to his breakfast, Wesley did not even greet her.

"How is your head?" He asked, though his voice gave not a hint of real concern.

"Still hurting." Ansley had to hide her surprise when she'd opened her bedroom door and saw the note. She'd have to thank that Colonel Tavington for being so thoughtful.

"Fresh pear juice, Miss?" The servant came over quickly after Ansley seated herself. The thought of the sweet juice made Ansley noxious and she asked for a simple cup of tea. Wesley gave her a sidelong glance at the request, but said nothing.

After the tea was served, Ansley looked at her choices on the table. There were still eggs left, fruit, and some assortment of meats, but none of it looked appetizing at the moment. Seeing a small vegetable platter, Ansley served herself the uncooked carrots, cauliflower, and celery.

Clearing his throat, Wesley spoke emotionlessly. "I have business in town today, I'll be gone until dark."

_And this matters to me, why_? Ansley thought bitterly as she took a long sip of her tea. But she only nodded in response. After eating only a few bites of her vegetables, Ansley pushed the plate away, finishing her tea.

Heaving a sigh, Wesley stood from his chair, straightening his suit. "You look dreadful, Angelica. Eat something, will you?"

With that, Wesley left the room without another word. Ansley, meanwhile, held a devastating grip on the knife next to her plate.

-

Wesley is so stupid, he should really watch his mouth, before she chops it off! Okay, here's review responses, y'all rock my socks!

**Jeangray666**: LOL, you deserve it! Huzzah! And I'm sure Tavy enjoyed the smooch, knowing him, hehe. Thank you for readin'!

**NadaZimri:** GAH! It's like she's back from the dead! –throws confetti— she's baaack! I know, Wesley is a dumb-dumb who will get his when the times comes, muahahaha! Right, Tavy!  
Tavy: (tightens knuckles) I'll take care of him, poppet.  
Teehee. Thank ya kindly for reviewing, my friend, thou hast lifted mine spirits :).

**Tigerchild:** Oh, boy, am I having a fun time with these two. The next chapter should delight you (hint, hint)! Hmm, thou hast reviewed TWICE! Not that I'm complainin', I can use all the support I can get:D. Thank you so much for such uplifting words, they make me feel all special :). Thank you for reading!

**The Kitten:** ROFLMAO! Well, Katie, you do have a way with words, don'tcha? Well, let's hope Ansley never has to discover quite what happened to Wesley's, ahem, instruments, so to speak...-cough, anywho, yeah, the next chapter should satisfy you somewhat, hehe. I love the sexual tension anyway, so there will definitely be that stuff. Teehee. And I swear I'm almost finished reading your story, me loves it so far and I'm bringing it to YG tonight so I can sit down and read it ALL! Thank ya muchly for reading my stuff:).

Okay, folks, I'm out for now. Pleasey review so I know this all isn't a load of crap from my twisted imagination :). Arrivederci!

-sancti-


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Little warning. Some "rebel bashing" down there, but please don't get mad. I'm an American so I think I have a license to make fun a little bit. Hope nobody's offended though!

-sancti-

Chapter 5

Ansley had planned on spending the rest of the day sulking in her room, sitting in her usual chair in front of her window and sewing that bleeding wedding vale. So many times had she wanted to just take the needle and rip it through the delicate material. Sewing that thing often felt so much like she was tying her own noose. Nonetheless, it was something to do and she was fond of sewing. But her day took a different direction, an unexpected one quite like the day before (which Ansley was still having trouble remembering). But the way in which her day took that unforeseen turn came in the form of a message.

Ansley stared at the piece of paper in the young girl's hand, wondering who on earth would want to contact her, especially when she'd just received her family's letters the day before. The small message was creased, almost like someone had crumpled it to throw away, but thought better of it. Ansley gingerly took it from the little servant girl who curtsied and then skittered away in an instant. Opening the message, Ansley was surprised to see only a few words:

_At noon, meet me at the pool. _

With a short intake of breath, Ansley knew who it was and with shaking fingers, she hurriedly stuffed the note in her skirt.

-

Ansley knew from the instant she awoke that it was going to be a dark day. Thick, grey clouds obscured any hints of the sun as the young woman took the least traversed path from the mansion into the woods. She immediately recognized the horse trail and followed it for some time, waiting for the sound of the water to draw her near. All the while, Ansley felt like she was watching herself from afar, wondering why she was doing this. Excitement hardly touched young Ansley's life and to date, this was the most excitement she'd ever experienced. The fact that she was actually going against a rule, several in fact, was a giant leap for the girl.

But Ansley found that she not only loved the feeling of breaking a few rules, but this man, this colonel held her fascinated. The day before, when she'd rambled endlessly about this problem and that, she'd watched him as he sat listening. The intense gaze in his eyes as he seemed to be able to read her mind, and his occasional nod or input. It was like he studied her for a specific purpose. For what purpose, Ansley wasn't sure.

She halted upon hearing the gentle rush of water and she turned in its direction. She left the trail, letting the fallen branches and prickly undergrowth nag and snatch at her skirt. Pushing low branches out of her way, Ansley finally made it to the pool, a smile automatically displayed as she neared it. But her smile dissipated as she realized there was no Colonel Tavington. The slightly lower-than-normal temperature whipped at Ansley as a sharp breeze caused the girl to fold her arms tightly against her chest and wish for the shawl in her room. She looked about, seeing no sign of the man. Disappointed and a tad chilly, she decided to wait only a few more minutes before turning back. She didn't have to wait long, when a twig snapped behind her. She turned to see the colonel, sharp as ever in uniform, emerge from the dense trees.

"You've broken tradition." He said as a greeting, nodding at her clothes.

Her brow creased, Ansley looked down at herself before realizing what he meant. When she did, her face flushed some as the man chuckled. But she felt somewhat relieved when he made a jesting smirk.

He then nodded his head towards the woods. "Let's take a walk, shall we?" He suggested, his tone unreadable. Mildly mulling over the fact that such a thing was improper, Ansley visibly hesitated. But upon seeing no odd look in his eyes, Ansley nodded her head and followed him as he headed towards the horse trail.

-

Ansley grimaced as she smacked at a small bug on her arm. "Can't stand this country." She spat.

Tavington looked over curiously. "Really? I'm rather fond of it. Much too beautiful a country for these rebel savages to have all to themselves."

Ansley made a quiet laugh. "Well, they can keep it as far as I'm concerned."

The man's demeanor changed suddenly into one of seriousness and he eyed Ansley curiously. "What _do_ you know of the war, Miss Parrish?"

Ansley dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. "I don't pay mind to any of that, Colonel. All I need to know is that the rebels are dirty traitors and we're going to win. Besides that, I rather like keeping my head in the sand."

She couldn't be sure, but Ansley thought she saw a bit of relief in the colonel's well-chiseled features.

"So what was your excuse this time?" Tavington asked as the two walked slowly down the path.

Ansley knew what he referred to and shrugged innocently. "I told Winnie that I was writing letters in my room and wasn't to be disturbed."

He chuckled lightly as he stared off into the gray sky. An uncomfortable silence took over and Ansley wrung her hands anxiously.

"Colonel, I wanted to thank you, for what you did yesterday, with the message outside my door and all." Ansley said finally.

Tavington pulled his hands behind his back in a military way and then fixed her with a quick, polite smile. "Think nothing of it, Miss Parrish. I only did what any…gentleman would do."

After a moment of silence, Ansley decided to ask the question that had been gnawing at her. "Colonel, I realize that my…condition yesterday was hardly that of a lady," with a deep breath, she continued, "And I must ask, did I say, or…do anything that would be considered, well-improper?"

Tavington halted and turned to her with a raised eyebrow. When he didn't answer right away, Ansley whimpered and suddenly a flood of questions spilled from her lips.

"Good God, what did I do? What did I say? Did I do anything to you? Did," she paused breathlessly, "did _we_ do anything?" She inquired meekly.

Seeming to have fun with this game, Tavington chuckled mysteriously which only caused Ansley's face to redden more.

"Colonel, what happened?" Ansley pleaded, her eyes telling her dreadful thoughts.

Tavington noticed her features turning from red to a disturbing blanched color and decided it unwise to continue the game. "Now, now, don't fret. Neither you, nor I, did anything of the sort."

The trembling in her spine nearly stopped and Ansley breathed a sigh of relief, crossing her arms tightly. After recovering from that unhealthy scare, Ansley gave the man a sidelong glance.

"Colonel, really, why did you call on me anyway?"

He fixed her with a perfectly serious face and shrugged a shoulder. "I was curious as to how I'd see you again, considering each of our previous encounters." He replied casually, giving her form a once over.

Ansley felt her jaw drop in quite an unlady-like fashion and she made a squeak of a scoff. "Wh-why, how _dare_ you even _fathom_ such a thought-"

He laughed-very hard. He had such a guffaw that his hand soon went to his side as he sat down on a near log. Ansley watched, not amused, with her mouth still parted from her unfinished sentence. When the last of his chuckles dissipated, he looked upon the young woman with moist eyes.

"My dear Miss Parrish, don't flatter yourself," He finally managed to say, "I asked you to meet me merely for company. I was bored."

Ansley clamped her jaw shut, clenching her jaw. This man was worse than Wesley. Turning away with a huff, she walked swiftly in the direction of the mansion.

"Wait, Miss Parrish!" He caught up with her in a mere few seconds, carefully taking her arm. Ansley wrenched her arm away without a word. He then stood in front of her, blocking her path.

"Move." She hissed.

His chin dipped knowingly. "Miss Parrish, I can't believe you would get in such a fit over a jest."

"I don't take jests very well." She spat.

Ansley then brushed past him, some of her hair loosening from the careless bun she'd had it in.

"I'm sorry." He called to her retreating form. She stopped, turning slightly to hear more of his apology.

"You must understand, Miss Parrish, I'm not a man that laughs often." Tavington explained seriously.

Ansley sighed, biting her lip. "And I am not a woman who enjoys being the object of ridicule," She said quietly, "Nor one who is only there for the amusement and status of another." She murmured. The colonel didn't say anything and let her continue. Ansley felt the tickle in her nose, indicating unwelcome tears. Biting them back, she let the rage seep out instead.

"Just something to show off! And he'll always be there!" She snapped angrily. The colonel stayed quiet, "Always be there, making my life miserable and giving me children that I may never love simply because they came from him! And there I'll be," She pointed ahead of her, at an image only she could see, "his _perfect_ wife with the _perfect_ home and the damned _perfect_ life!" The tears brimmed in her eyes and her knees weakened. She crumpled to the ground, the colonel there in an instant, but soon seeing she only suffered from emotional exhaustion. Not giving notice to Tavington, she stared out into the trees.

"Is that my destiny," She croaked out, "to live such a lie only because I am a woman?"

Tavington wouldn't give an answer, because he didn't have one. He couldn't say, "I know how you feel," because he did not. He'd always lived his life the way in which he deemed fit. His father, being the bastard that he was, never tried to steer his son's life in any direction. So Tavington had to learn from his own mistakes, which had numbered to many over the years.

Putting a hand to the young woman's shoulder, he offered his other to her. "Come, Miss Parrish, you don't want to stay on the ground."

Ansley casually drifted out of her reverie and fixed the colonel with a red-eyed, pleading stare. "Colonel, I beg of you not to mention what I've said here."

Smiling comfortingly, he slipped her hand into his own and helped the young woman to her feet. "Not a word." He promised.

Satisfied, Ansley brushed herself off, then wiped away the stray tears on her cheeks. "I should go back, Colonel," she took a chance and glanced at his piercing blue orbs and added, "thank you for bearing with my outburst."

He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but decided against it and simply nodded. With another small, polite smile, she turned and headed towards the mansion.

"Miss Parrish!" Tavington called after her.

She only slowed her pace, but kept walking, her head cranked in the man's direction to let him know she was listening.

"Meet me at the stables tomorrow? I have something to show you!"

Ansley then faced him, walking backwards, her feet stumbling some. "When?"

"After dinner!"

"Wha-but it would be dark soon after!"

Tavington smiled knowingly. "That's the point. Will you come?"

Not putting too much thought into the "how," Ansley nodded and turned back around, disappearing into the trees.

"And come in comfortable apparel!"

-

She didn't really mean to awake early, but Ansley guessed her nerves were what caused her premature rise. Winnie was even surprised to see her superior up as the sun inched its way over the horizon. Truth was, Ansley was as giddy as a little girl on Christmas morning and her obvious excitement stirred Winifred's interest.

"You're all smiles, Miss Parrish, what's put you in such a fine mood?" The servant asked as she fixed Ansley's hair at the vanity table.

Ansley shrugged, observing her reflection with a critical green eye. "I suppose a good nights rest is the cause."

Winifred grunted in response, taking a hairpin from the few Ansley held up for her. "Well, whatever it is, it's right fine to see you with some color on your face."

The day drew on slowly and Ansley believed she might suffocate with excitement. Where was the colonel going to bring her? What did he want her to see? She felt a little timid upon imagining the answers. But she told herself she had no reason to fret. By this time, she'd gotten to trusting the colonel and would expect nothing less of a gentleman.

Ansley took her afternoon tea in the library, instead of with Mrs. Middleton and her annoying friends. She liked the feeling of being surrounded by the books and the countless tales hidden within their pages. Ansley turned another page of _Utopia_, fascinated by the words, as she sipped her tea.

"I thought I might find you here."

Ansley froze with the teacup still at her lips. Her glance slid upwards to meet the homely figure of her fiancé. He wasn't looking at her, but instead perused the shelves apathetically. Heaving a dramatic sigh, he finally turned to Ansley and walking up to her, grabbing the book from her hand and observing the title. He grunted.

"_Utopia_? Are you sure you're capable of understanding it?" He asked smugly, dropping the book on the cushion next to her. He then sat himself down in an armchair across from the woman.

Taking the book back into her hands, Ansley tried to look for the page she'd been reading from. "Don't underestimate me, Wesley." She warned.

He scoffed, his eyes wandering about the room. "Why aren't you taking your tea with Mrs. Middleton?"

Ansley knew it was coming and she was prepared with her answer. "Her friends are imprudent and annoying. I wished to spend time quietly-which means _alone_." She added, indicating that he was not welcome.

Ignoring her wish, Wesley made himself comfortable, easing back into the chair and taking out a cigar. He pulled a box of matches out from inside his waistcoat (matches he probably got from the parlor) and lit the cigar. Ansley watched this with disgust. She abhorred smoking and Wesley knew it. He exhaled a lazy cloud of smoke, which found its way to where Ansley sat. She didn't cough, though the stench and inhalation of the nauseous fume made her want to gag. No, she wouldn't let him have the satisfaction of knowing he'd annoyed her. Instead, she went back to her book. But Wesley wasn't finished yet.

"Do you really believe I care that Mrs. Middleton and her friends irritate you?"

Not sure where he was going with this, Ansley tore herself away from the pages once again. "What is you point, Wesley?"

He sighed, taking another drag from his cigar before leaning forward in the chair. "Angelica, listen carefully. As your fiancé, I have certain duties. One, is to make sure that your conduct is something to brag about. If you continue to hide away and brush off whatever activities you women entertain yourselves with, I will begin to look like a fool."

Ansley figured out what he was trying to say and prepared herself to fight back, but he continued without letting her get a word in.

"And as your fiancé, I also have the prerogative to inform you when I am displeased with something about you."

Ansley curved a thin, dark eyebrow into an arch and lightly shook her head. "Welsey, I've told you my reasons for abandoning such, "activities."

"And I am telling you that I am displeased." He retorted gravely, "Mrs. Middleton has questioned me about your health! The last thing I need is my fiancé being the talk of the gossips and placing such embarrassment upon _me_. And if you _don't_ abide-"

"You'll what?" Ansley prompted, "lock me away?"

Wesley's gaze moved to the book in Ansley's hands. "I'll remove the source of your distractions."

Ansley followed his gaze and then laughed. "Oh, Wesley, you'll take away my books? Don't treat me like a child, it's very unappealing."

"Then stop acting like one." He ordered, biting off each word. With that, he stood, taking the cigar and placing it in an ashtray on the coffee table. He then moved to stand in front of her, his gaunt form towering over Ansley's.

"And I think I shall start with this one." He snatched the book away, and Ansley gasped, standing up abruptly as he walked away.

"Wesley Miles Hookar, you give that book back to me this instant!" She demanded.

He ignored her and went to the end table near the door where a few scented candles had been lit. He hovered the small book over their flames, causing Ansley to stop in her tracks.

"You wouldn't," Ansley breathed, "I brought that all the way from England!"

The book was dangerously close to catching fire and Ansley held her breath as Welsey carelessly let the book linger over the candles. "Tomorrow, you will join Mrs. Middleton and her friends and be the perfectly genteel and pleasant young woman they expect you to be. If I hear one more concern about your health or aloofness, all of your distractions will be taken away from you." With that, he removed the book from danger and tapped its hard cover, "And besides, I'd hate these pages to be wasted on your feeble mind." He added dryly. With that, he left the room, whistling to himself.

Ansley clenched her fists, trying to bite down her anger. How dare he handle her like an unruly child and how dare he have the audacity to order her around! Then she remembered a very simple rule her mother had taught her when she'd reached the age of thirteen. Ansley had just had quite a surprise while relieving herself and came into the house screaming that her death was impending. After her mother carefully explained to her about a lady's monthly curse, she'd gone into a long discussion on what it meant to be a woman in a man's world. One rule that stuck in her mind was the one that felt most like a dagger in her stomach.

_And one rule you must always remember, Angelica, is that your husband is your master. You must never disobey him because men are superior to us, as the good Book says. _

Ansley felt like spitting at the path her fiancé had just traversed. But she held back, as always. Always she held back. Just enough to be accepted as a proper lady. Each time, just enough. But she wasn't sure now how much longer she could restrain herself.

-

For the first time in some days, the Lord General Cornwallis graced everyone with his presence for the evening meal, instead of usually taking it in his room while he worked. In anticipation of the apparently exciting event, the officers staying at Middleton Place also gathered around the large dining table at the formal time in which dinner was served. Ansley and Mrs. Middleton were the only ladies, so for convenience in speaking, they were seated next to each other. Welsey sat to her left, and General Cornwallis took Mr. Middleton's place at the head on the table. Mr. Middleton was placed across from Wesley and to Ansley's great and pleasant surprise, she found herself directly across from Colonel Tavington.

Once everyone was seated and the formalities began, Ansley gave Tavington a polite, subtle smile, expecting one in return. But what she received, was a curt, cool nod of acknowledgment, as if they'd just met. Blinking in surprise, Ansley parted her mouth questioningly. This was something entirely different. As she studied the man before her, Ansley realized she hardly recognized him. His spine was arrow straight, and his gestures swift and cold. The features on his well-chiseled face were like that of stone and did not seem to offer any hint of personal expression or thought. Ansley drew her brows together in consideration. Was this the real Colonel Tavington? Completely businesslike and not the least bit warm? Surely it couldn't be! Was this the man who'd quipped with her only the day before? The man who was instantly at her side in concern when she'd had that moment of emotional weakness? Was this truly the man who for the first time in her life made her feel…wanted?

Ansley continued to stare at him, searching for any part of the fellow who'd become her friend over the past few days. But she detected none of him. This wasn't the Colonel Tavington she knew, it was the rough Colonel of the British Green Dragoons seated before her.

"My dear Angelica, surely you're going to eat?" Ansley shifted her gaze from the Colonel to the source of the voice, which came from the head of the table. The Lord General blinked at her expectantly and Ansley could literally feel her fiancé's eyes burning into the side of her head, but she ignored him. Instead, she looked down at her plate of food, which she didn't even realize had been brought to her from a servant. Ansley swallowed into her dry throat before answering.

"Of course, milord, I was merely…praying." She answered, making her voice as fragile and lady-like as possible.

The older man smiled politely. "Of course, my dear. I hope I did not interrupt." He apologized genuinely.

Faking a smile in return, Ansley carefully took her napkin to spread over her lap. She then reached for her glass of wine, but halted upon feeling eyes on her. She looked over and found the Colonel peering at her over his own glass. For an instant, Ansley saw the sly twinkle in his vivid eyes. But it truly was only in that instant, for it was gone as soon as it came and he returned to being the hard, cold man that everyone in the room expected to see.

-

Tavington sighed greatly, crossing his arms and leaning against the rough wood doorframe of the barn. He stared out at the rapidly descending sun and wondered if Miss Parrish had somehow been caught. If she didn't come soon, the girl would miss the very point of the whole excursion. Tavington briefly wondered if her fiancé was holding her up, perhaps wanting something that she wouldn't be willing to give before marriage. But he then remembered that the weasel disliked her as much as she disliked him and that option was quickly cancelled out.

Tavington grimaced, remembering Miss Parrish's display yesterday afternoon caused by that man. Her emotions were dangerously bottled up, a feeling Tavington was all too familiar with. And too often did those emotions end up brimming and overflowing to the point where he'd be moved to do things others would think atrocious.

Tavington suddenly felt his brow crease at the thought of Miss Parrish discovering the things he'd done. Normally, he wouldn't care what thoughts people possessed of him. He did what he wanted when he wanted and never feared the repercussions. But for some odd reason, the idea that Miss Parrish would know filled him with something he hadn't felt in years-dread. Troubled by this unfamiliar emotion, Tavington shifted his weight uncomfortably, cranking his neck to get a look at the mansion, waiting to see the bonnet on the head of a young woman. There was no one but guards. Scoffing, Tavington turned away from the stables and headed towards the house. Obviously, something had held Miss Parrish and there was no reason why he should waste a perfectly nice night waiting around for her. The pub near town suddenly sounded like a delightful idea.

"Leaving so soon, Colonel?" Tavington stopped upon hearing the delicate voice behind him. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he turned halfway, seeing the young woman on the other side of the barn, a tricky grin on her face.

Playing along, Tavington shrugged a shoulder. "Well, it seems I was supposed to meet someone here, but she's late."

Coming out from behind the barn wall, Miss Parrish made an expression of mock surprise. Quickly taking in her appearance, Tavington noticed she'd changed from her dinner attire to that of a white summer dress, her waist certainly well defined from the stay, but the skirt did not have nearly as many hoops and she seemed quite comfortable in it. The neckline was cut well enough for wandering eyes, forcing Tavington to keep check on his gaze and make certain it was always directed at her pretty features. All in all, she was in appropriate enough garb for what he had planned. And quite pleasant to the eye.

"Then you mean to say you would not wait all night for her?" Miss Parrish countered clandestinely.

Choosing his words carefully, he then raised a dark eyebrow. "Well, it isn't my fault she is tardy."

The girl bowed her head in defeat. "I was delayed."

"Oh?" Tavington replied, his tone suggesting she'd done something impish.

Scoffing, Miss Parrish closed most of the space between them, her arms crossed over her chest. "Colonel Tavington, just what are you implying?"

Mischievousness reflected in his icy eyes as he entered the barn, quite literally dodging the question. Knowing well enough what the colonel meant, Miss Parrish followed him in, her pace somewhat hesitant.

Tavington noticed this when he'd reached his chestnut mount. "They won't bite." He said somewhat condescendingly when he noticed the girl's demeanor at the sight of the creatures. She looked at him with a frown as she finally made her way over him. She peered at the large animal with a look mixed with curiosity and caution.

"What its name?"

Tavington took a short intake of breath, halting as he stroked the horse's soft nose. "Tempus." He mumbled.

Miss Parrish leaned her head in a little. "Tempus? Is that what I heard?" The soldier nodded curtly, "That's an unusual name for a horse."

Tavington unlatched the gate, causing the girl to take a step back as there wasn't much now that separated her from the gigantic animal. "His full name is Tempus Fugit."

She narrowed her eyes in thought, "Time Flies," She murmured.

Tavington briefly thought of Elena, then shook his mind of the past. "Now, what horse to be given to you?"

Miss Parrish tensed and looked around at the many fine horses, some belonging to other Dragoon officers. "Well, where exactly are you taking me?"

Tavington led Tempus out of his stall so he could prepare him. "Oh, that would ruin the surprise, now wouldn't it, Miss Parrish?"

-

After too much time convincing Miss Parrish that she wouldn't fall off her horse, Tavington was quite sure they'd miss what he needed to show her. Not wanting to frighten the woman by having the horses travel at a canter, Tavington thought of as many shortcuts to their destination as possible. Finally, he chose the most logical way. It certainly wasn't the smoothest route, but it would get them there in time.

"Put your hand on the pommel," Tavington instructed, "that's it. Now keep the other on the reins. Don't hold on to them too tight, just relax."

The woman was having a terrible time with her sidesaddle and though she insisted she'd ridden before, Tavington was sure it was probably only once and never since. Miss Parrish sat wide-eyed and quite ashen as she kept her horse at a slow walk next to Tavington's down the unbeaten path.

"Don't look down, Miss Parrish. There, you're doing fine."

Struggling to keep her eyes averted from the ground and concentrated on the things before her, Miss Parrish cleared her throat. "Where are we going?" She asked again, almost desperately.

Tavington chuckled. "Not much further now, don't worry."

After a few more minutes, the girl seemed to calm down and didn't have such a white-knuckled grip on the pommel. "Colonel Tavington, I really must protest-"

"William."

Miss Parrish looked over inquiringly. "William?"

"My superiors and subordinates call me Colonel Tavington. You are neither, and I would like you to call me William."

After a moment, the girl seemed to want to say something. "W-William, may I ask you a question?"

"Certainly, Miss Parrish."

"Ansley." She corrected him.

Tavington narrowed his eyes. "Ansley, hm? I take it that's short for Angelica, somehow?"

"Yes, it is."

He grunted. "Very odd. 'Ansley' doesn't sound the least bit similar to, 'Angelica.' "

Scoffing, the girl seemed to forget for a moment she was riding what she'd earlier called, "a treacherous beast." "Yes, well, 'Bill' doesn't sound very much like, 'William,' and 'Jack' sounds nothing like Jonathon."

Tavington made a half-smile. "Touché."

Remembering her question, Ansley returned to the point. "…William, I must ask, why, with what little free time someone like you has, would you waste your furlough on me? Why not with friends or family?"

Becoming solemn, Tavington answered the question as casually as he could. "Well, I find I don't have many friends, Ansley. I don't have the time to make any, nor keep them. And what's left of my family certainly didn't want to move here."

Seeming to regret the asking, the girl looked away. "Oh. I see." Deciding it best not to continue with such talk, she moved on to something else.

"William, I beg of you, why did you take me out here?" She whined.

Tavington decided to give her a small hint. "You say you despise this country. I intend on convincing you of its beauty."

Wondering what he meant by such a cryptic message, the girl stayed quiet, looking about her in search for any clue as to where he led her. She couldn't be sure where he thought would be the best place. The two were traveling through a wooded area and the sun was already setting. Soon, she wouldn't even be able to see anything that would, "convince her of its beauty." After a few more minutes of silence, a sound reached Ansley's ears and she strained to listen.

"What is that?" She whispered. It was a powerful noise and one she _knew_ she'd heard before. But she couldn't place her finger on it. Tavington didn't say a word, he merely smiled. He led them both a little ways more before halting Tempus and dismounting.

"We're here." He said as the soldier made his way over to Ansley to help her off the, "treacherous beast."

The girl looked around, seeing only trees. "We're still in the forest though."

"We go the rest on foot." Tavington offered his hand to the girl who suddenly realized she had to get off the great black animal. Extremely unsure as to how she'd complete this task without falling, she took her hand off the pommel and gave it the man.

Since it would take too long to teach her how to properly dismount, Tavington decided to go about it his own way. "Lower your foot there, that's it, keep it there. Now lower the other one-don't hesitate, you'll be fine."

In letting go of her last foot, the woman slid off the horse with a yelp and landed on the ground with unsteady feet. In doing so, she tumbled into Tavington, who caught her easily. Her hands on his shoulders and his arms about her waist to steady her, she slowly pulled away from him.

"Thank you." She murmured.

He didn't let go immediately and Ansley was extremely aware of the warmth of his hands at her sides. And though the awkward moment lasted for only a few seconds, it held a tint of eternity. After tying the horses, Tavington offered his arm to the girl. "This way, milady."

Smiling at his mock propriety, Ansley locked her arm with his and let him lead her through the thick forest. After escorting her some way, Tavington stepped in front of her.

"Now, shut your eyes."

Scoffing, Ansley placed her fists firmly on her hips. "Shut my eyes? Whatever for?"

Biting down annoyance, Tavington rolled his eyes. "Would you _please_ shut your eyes?"

Not seeming to trust him, Ansley stared cautiously before sighing dramatically and closing her lids over her large green orbs. "That's a girl, now come on."

Taking her hand in his own, he carefully led her towards the edge of the woods, where the sound Ansley had heard before was much louder. A certain smell stirred Ansley's memory and suddenly she knew where they were. "Can I-"

"Not yet." Tavington ordered.

Ansley felt the sand part away from her riding boots and the aroma of the saltwater tickled her nose. He dragged her along a little further before stopping and gently pushing down on her shoulders. "Sit." Tavington sat down with her, bringing one knee up and resting his elbow on it. Ansley drew both of her legs to her chest, as a child would.

"All right, you can open them now."

She did, and immediately a grin spread across her pale features. He had brought her there in perfect time. The brilliant colors of the sun stretched as far as the eye could see, as the water reflected the light off. Ansley sighed contentedly.

"I've always hated the sun." She murmured, "And its tendency to burn my skin. Even when we sailed over, I'd go and hide in my stateroom, despite Wesley's endeavors to make me come out to see the sunset."

Tavington watched the light glow on her features and he thought she never looked more beautiful than in that moment.

"But there is something different about the beach," she continued, "Something safe and comforting." She peeled her eyes away from the sun and to the sand, running her hand through the fine granules.

Tavington sighed. Perhaps he finally helped in convincing her of the beauty of the land, it being part of what he fought for. The two of them sat silently for some time, watching the sun glide down into the horizon. Then the only sound that could be heard, was the gentle collide of the small waves. The sky turned from orange and pink to blue and finally to black. Ansley did not say anything during this transition. She showed no fear of the impending darkness, or a wish to return to the manor. She was perfectly complacent.

The moon brightened and reflected its perfect, cool light over the water and sand. The stars slowly appeared, the shapes of the constellations forming until the entire sky was a vale, with pins of lights shooting through.

Tavington recognized the constellations immediately and he nodded at a particularly bright star. "The North Star," He murmured, "the brightest and most unwavering. It never moves."

Ansley followed his gaze, then let it wander over the other stars. "Do you know any constellations, William?"

He smiled. Of course he did. A soldier could spend days out in the wilderness with nothing but the stars to stare at. "Sure. See now, look East. See that set of three stars over there? Follow my finger. Do you see them?"

She nodded, though he could see her eyes narrowed in the dark. "Now, look up and follow those two stars, then to the right, you see that line? There, fit it all together, that's Orion, the Hunter."

It took her a minute to see the full shape, but when she did, the moon gleamed off her teeth as she grinned. "Show me another one."

Though it was difficult, Tavington was able to point out Pegasus, Gemini, Cassiopeia, and Draco. Ansley took to each of them, and then turned to Tavington. "Why me?" She said unexpectedly.

The inquiry took the Dragoon Colonel off guard, as there could be a thousand meanings behind such a question. "What do you mean?"

Turning away, the girl delicately tucked a strand of wavy hair behind her ear. "You could be doing anything right now. Getting drunk with your officers. Running about with wenches. Stowing yourself away in your room, studying stupid maps and battle plans. Why do you choose to spend this time with _me_? An engaged, silly little girl with her silk gowns and expensive jewels!"

The question was quite direct and Tavington couldn't dodge this one so easily. And if he did, he might just make her angry. Was the truth the best way to go here? Did he even have an answer? Deep down, he did, but it was a useless whim and Tavington didn't pay attention to whims.

"You're different, Ansley," After a moment of two, Tavington launched into his tale, "You remind me of a horse my father used to own. Beautiful animal, well trained. But it had come from a line of wild horses. You would see that streak reveal itself every once and a while. But growing up in the hands of brutal discipline had dwarfed its wild tendencies. Until one day, it broke free, unable to stand being held in captivity. We never saw her again."

Ansley had a look of pure confusion on her features. Perhaps it was because she'd been compared to horse, Tavington wasn't sure. He numbly waited for a reply.

"Oh." She said simply, then looked away, concentrating on the stars again.

"Was my answer disappointing?" Tavington prodded, a tremble of uncertainty in his gut.

Ansley whipped her head around, her mouth moving, but no words coming out. "I-I wouldn't say _disappointing_. Just…odd."

"You want something more direct?"

The girl's frame tensed and her mouth parted in question. "More direct?"

"If you permit me, of course." Tavington said quickly.

Her breath quickened, Tavington could see that. The moon reflected off her delicate chest, which moved up and down more rapidly than it should have. She looked away, seeming to have a battle within her own mind. Tavington wanted to decide for her, and he did. His hand went to her chin, gently pressuring it so her face would turn to him. Her eyes were wide, mixed with a certain fear and something Tavington saw that could've been called lust. Without delaying the moment any longer, the soldier slid his hand to her neck and pulled her to him, forcing her soft lips onto his. His want-his need to taste her now insatiable. He waited for her to struggle, pull away, slap him, some sort of rebellion. But to his great and pleasant surprise, she didn't recoil and instead returned the kiss with a passion she'd been denied for so long.

-

Yee-haw! Wesley's still an idiot! Tavy and Ansley fall for each other! And Lord Cornwallis made an appearance!  
(cricket)  
...okay, so nobody _really_ cares about Cornwallis, but he's going to be in the next chapter anyway to have a "talk" with Ansley...dun dun dunnnn. Thanks for reading!

**jeangray666:** LOL, I'm sure you enjoyed it. Did you enjoy it Tavy?  
Tavy: GAH! She has the pom-poms again! Make it stop!  
Anywho, lol, well, if I die, I'll haunt my computer and continue writing :D. Thank you, Most Enthusiastic Reviewer for reading and reviewing :D.

**Tigerchild:** Aw, thank you muchly! Yes, yes, Tavy is quite a bit of eye candy if I don't say so myself :D. There's just something about the guy that is so darn irresistible. The eyes...the hair...the evilness...muahahaha...aw, but he was sooo nice in Harry Potter too...(cough), yeah, anywho, thank you for being such a faithful reader :).

**SnowAngelChick06:** Aw, thank you! Oh, I know, Wesley is incredibly stupid. But he's one of my favorite characters to write for because he says things no one else would say. But there will be some tender moments up ahead so y'all realize that, yes, he's a stupid bastard, but he's also human :D...teehee. Thank you for reading!

**Tigressinthemist:** Eee! I luv Tavy (hugs Tavy who rolls his eyes since it's the third hug of the day). And Wesley is stupid, but I love writing him because he says things nobody else would say. And there's a few tender moments ahead with him. Yes, he's stupid and idiotic and completely self-centered, but also human and I intend to show that part of him in a tiny scene :D. Eeek! And Tavy's still hot! (hugs Tavy again who groans because that makes it the fourth hug and it's not even noon yet). Thank you so much for reading and telling me your thoughts!

**Well**, folks, I'm out for now. Chocolate-covered raisons and more Tavy hugs for all! (and you can hug the rather hot British guard thatI've takenfrom my random mind and placedoutside Middleton Place who is now looking over curiously at all the female readers/reviewers).  
-sancti-


	6. Chapter 6

(A/N): I know none of you want excuses for the very long wait between this chapter and the last, but do know that it was a mix of not being able write, laziness, and deciding between a few directions the story could take to come to my ultimate goal which is already sorted out. Apologies for the wait, hope you enjoy it!

sancti

Chapter 6:

_What have I done?_

Sigh.

_What have I done…_

Ansley stared at a particularly interesting spot on her rug as she asked herself again why she'd let the colonel kiss her. Why she returned the kiss. Why she let him touch her. Fortunately, they both seemed to have enough sense and the passion was soon over with neither going too far. But was such a thing forgivable? Ansley didn't want to imagine what Wesley's reaction would be if he knew. She shuddered at the very thought.

Moistening her dry lips, Ansley looked away from the floor, the constant gaze causing her eyes to double her vision. Taking in a shaky breath, she looked herself over and cringed. Her dress was filthy. Sand had gotten into the most troublesome places, the hem of her dress was smeared with dirt and torn from the forest ground. It smelled like a horse. And a few of the ties on her bodice were broken as well. Ansley closed her eyes at the clear memory when Will had eased her to the sandy ground and she felt his hand travel to where he was not welcome.

"_No." She gasped._

_Tavington stopped immediately, though some of the ties of her bodice were already broken away. He was over her, and for the first time, saw how clearly uncomfortable she was. She was frightened. Tavington pulled himself away from her and sat, disappointed, in the sand. The girl slowly sat back up, smoothing her dress over with her hands._

"_I'm sorry." She said finally._

_Tavington glanced over and gave a ghost of a smile. "You're not ready, my dear. I understand."_

"_Itit's just not the right time." The girl explained with a hint of embarrassment._

Not only that, but Ansley had to remember one extremely important aspect in her life right nowshe was engaged. Albeit to a man she wanted nothing to do with, but that was not her choice to be made. She could not consciously bring shame to her family and the mere thought of her relations disowning her filled her with fright. Where would she go? Who would she become? It was all happening so incredibly fast and she couldn't stop the tears caused by her emotional whirlwind. So she took a deep breath, trying to look at her situation rationally. It was a kiss. It could have been more, but it wasn't. No one knew. No one suspected. If she broke it off now, she'd never have to think about it ever again.

That was the decision then. But Ansley felt something pull at her heart. And she realized that she truly liked that man. She liked how he'd held her when they kissed, how his hand caressed the small of her back, his other firmly on her neck. The way he kissed was something she'd never experienced. Passionate, yes, but not forceful, yet not gentle either. Perfect. It was perfect, and she felt safe. Safe until her natural instincts had gotten overly excited and she knew that it had to stop. Ansley felt a shiver ripple over her form as she remember every detail of the scene.

The grandfather clock tolled three, the noise echoing through the dark, empty halls. Sitting in her bedroom and unable to even fathom sleep, Ansley sighed, standing from the chair to change. She'd have to burn this dress though. Winnie had gotten a fire going before Ansley had excused her for the night so she could go meet the colonel. But by now, the fire was nearly spent and it took some time for Ansley to get it going again. Once she did, she removed the dress and cut it into pieces with her scissors usually reserved for sewing. Once that was done, she burnt each piece. Kneeling on the floor in her thin nightgown, Ansley watched the flames lick the fabric into ashes.  
-  
Her decision was final. There was no way she'd take "no" for an answer. Ansley simply had to speak with the colonel and break apart their fragile—relationship? Could a four-day fling even qualify as a relationship? Well, no doubt about it, whatever they had certainly would've turned into something. And Ansley simply couldn't allow it.  
The officers' bedchambers were not far from her own, as they were all guestrooms. But she didn't have to walk far in her search, when Ansley recognized that small girl of about twelve who'd given her the Colonel's note a few days before. Ansley stopped the wide-eyed little thing and asked of the Colonel's whereabouts.

"Why, miss, the Colonel's gone!" The girl had a disheveled mop of brown hair on her pretty head and her almond shaped, stone gray eyes were of considerable size.

"What do you mean he's left?"

"His furlough's over. He set out early this morning to rejoin his Green Dragoons at camp!"

Ansley felt a churning in her stomach. Was it hurt? No, it couldn't be. She couldn't possibly be hurt by the idea that she meant nothing to that man and he left without a proper goodbye and had no qualms about it. Such a thing couldn't possibly vex her! Whatever pain had sharpened in her heart quickly dissipated as Ansley realized that all the worries she'd had about Tavington becoming attached to her were futile. How could she think that she actually _meant_ something to him? What a silly, preposterous idea.

"Oh, miss, that does remind me though," the servant said suddenly, delving into the pockets on her apron, "Before he left, Colonel Tavington asked me to give you this!"

The girl handed her an envelope, which Ansley took tentatively. "Is there anything I can get you, miss?"

Ansley stared at the paper in her hands, with her name in the colonel's handwriting writing adorned on it. She shook her head and waved the girl away. "No, carry on." With a curtsy, the girl then slipped away in a flutter of dark curls.

It was not even breakfast yet, so Ansley had time to return to her room. She locked the door behind her, lest Winnie burst in uninvited, as this wasn't unusual. Then moving to her vanity, the young woman sat down heavily in the chair, the envelope held out in front of her. She stared at it, terrified of the contents. Then working slowly, she turned the envelope around, breaking the red wax that sealed it. Taking out the letter, she gently unfolded it, gasping at its length, then began to read.

_Ansley, _

_If you're reading this, you've probably learned of my departure already. I apologize for not giving you further notice, nor a proper farewell. I'm not very skilled at saying goodbye. But I write this now because I would hate for us to depart without understanding our circumstances. I thoroughly enjoy your company and though you are promised to another man, whom I don't think I need to mention that you despise, I will continue to call on you. Before you fret now, you must remember that this can be done in secret. It is common enough of his Lordship to summon me, so I should hope to take advantage of those times to see you. And that servant girl, Celeste, is a loyal and trustworthy little poppet, and you needn't worry about her spreading rumors. _

_But I'm straying from the point. I'm very fond of you, Miss Parrish and to date, you are the one woman I feel I shouldn't coerce. Yes, I admit there have been a handful of camp followers, those wretched women who'd do anything for a cot and a tent, as well as a man. _

_But truly, the last time I felt this way about a womanwell, it's been a good many years. I'm not an easy man to get along with, though. On the contrary. What you saw was a man free of worry and anger. Now that I have my old obligations to tend to, I'm afraid the next time you meet me, I won't be as good a company. But, for you, I will try to be more agreeable and genteel. _

_On a final note, I must tell you how we can communicate between my visits. That is, if you even wish to write me. If you do, always, and I stress this, always give your letters to Celeste. We cannot risk these going through regular mail and Celeste knows how to place the letters into the more furtive line of military mail. I also must ask you to be discreet in your letters. I've only been so open in this, because I knew this letter would pass between only me, Celeste and you. So I beg of you to be careful in what you write._

_Finally, I will consider this my proper farewell. In the days to come, I will pray to hear from you. There is no warmth here in this cold, dreary camp and even less so on the battlefield. But imagining your lovely face in the moonlight gives me a odd sense of warmth, which I will cherish. _

_Until our next meeting, _

_-William_

Ansley read the letter again. And again. She tried to understand the words, decipher their meanings, search for a concealed message that really meant, "You're a nice girl, but I'm not a man who likes commitment." But she could find no traces of it. He truly liked her.  
-  
Wesley was bedridden. A cold of a sorts with a fever. This didn't shock Ansley and if anything, it was a hidden blessing. She thought about dodging Mrs. Middleton and her trio of powdered wigs and perfume, but the look in Winnie's face when she suggested this made her think otherwise. Wesley may have been ill, but his very veins flowed with poison and Ansley wouldn't take the chance of his finding out she shirked her "female duty" again. At least not for a while. So Ansley swallowed her pride and, grumbling all the way, awaited the time in which she'd have to join those gossiping dunces.

"And I must say, really, silk is such a classic material I could never present myself in _cotton_." The woman was about twenty years Ansley's senior and looked every bit of it. The myriad of lines in her drawn, aged face were so visible, one could almost think it was a map. There was one particular wrinkle that connected with another and Ansley mused how it mildly took the shape of France.

Taking a sip of her tea, Ansley cringed at the woman next to her, a bubbly woman in her thirties with a wide girth to match her loud voice. Obviously no one had taught her (or gave up trying) that it was rude to speak above a gentle tone. "I _do_ say, Audrey, though I agree silk is classic, it is a tad overused, no? Every ball you will attend, you'll see every woman adorned in the shiny matter!"

"But does that not mean we all simply have wonderful taste?" The youngest and most meek of Mrs. Middleton's friends piped in, her extremely fluttery and high voice barely audible. She was a pretty little thing, a tad older than Ansley, and she barely spoke.

Mrs. Middleton bobbed her head one too many times in agreement. "I concur. There is nothing wrong with everyone having good taste, do you agree, Angelica?"

Not paying a pennyweight of attention to the subject being discussed, Ansley whipped her head up at the sound of her name. Four pairs of beady dark eyes were fixed on her, waiting for the appropriate answer. Not exactly sure as to what she was agreeing with, Ansley nodded her head anyway. "Yes, of course."

Satisfied, the ladies went back to whatever they found interesting to speak of. Retreating back into her mind, Ansley ignored them and thought of what she could be doing instead of wasting away on the broad patio, practically feeling the back of her neck charring in the afternoon sun. Since she was the only one in the yellow orb's destructive ray, the others were perfectly content and quite used to the warmer climate. Attempting to think of all other things save her discomfort, Ansley almost missed a topic most interesting.

"—and he always has such a cold demeanor, that Colonel. Has only the slightest sense of propriety."

Ansley looked down into her teacup and saw the watery substance quiver. Realizing her hands were shaking, she quickly, without it being noticeable, placed the cup back on the saucer and rested her unsteady hands in her lap.

Audrey, the wrinkled one, nodded her head, her large earrings jingling loudly. "I do agree, not a genteel man in the slightest."

"But you would say he is handsome." The young one, Beatrice, said with a blush.

Mrs. Middleton dismissed that remark with a wave of her hand. "Evil is beautiful, dear Beatrice. That is what makes it so tempting."

The loud, large woman, Sarah, spoke next. "And that Colonel Tavington has the Devil himself at his shoulder, I'm sure of it. Now, I will not be the last to admit that these rebels are a bunch of scoundrels, but truly, if officers do not act as gentleman…" She let the sentence hang in the air, as everyone knew what she meant.

Ansley meanwhile, had gone pale as the moon in that last minute. No one seemed to notice and continued with their assault against the Dragoon leader.

"And the rumors are simply awful about that man," Audrey put in, her wrinkles creasing, "but I find I do not even have to listen to the rumors to see the evil in him. You just take one look into his eyes and they tell you tomes about his character."

"Truly," Beatrice said, her small burst of confidence lashing out, "why the last ball I attended, he was there and did not take those eyes off me! I felt the strangest emotion that I cannot even describe because of the way he looked at me!"

Though her anger had reached a breaching point, Ansley knew in a moment what the naïve girl had felt. It was a deep throbbing within, almost a painful throb that was constant. Ansley grew to identify it as lust. This girl simply didn't know how to label it and knew less about why she felt that primal, natural instinct.

Sarah made a raspy cackle at the girl's comment, as she obviously knew what it was as well. Audrey and Mrs. Middleton merely blushed and concentrated on the lemon slice floating in their teacups.

But not a second more passed before Mrs. Middleton said something that nearly made Ansley reach across the table and strangle her. "Well, pardon me for being harsh, but besides gawking at young, naïve girls," she said, gesturing to Beatrice who frowned, "he also has an eye for the _wenches_," she said in a whisper, "According to Oliver, the valet I assigned to the colonel, he spent his furlough running about with some whore! Oliver saw him with some woman on several occasions," she then lowered her voice, her sparkling blue eyes widening considerably, "_in the woods!_"

Every woman at the table, save for Ansley, gasped and had some sort of exclamation. "The woods, what a savage!"

"I told you the Devil was at his shoulder!

"Such evil in such a handsome man!"

"What is wrong with you all?" Ansley snapped.

Everyone whipped their heads to the girl, confusion plain on their features. Not thinking about the consequences, Ansley went on with her rampage.

"You all sit around here slicing the man to ribbons when you know not a thing about him! You condemn him because of rumors! _Rumors_! Just gossips you are, the whole lot of you! And I won't have any part in it!" With that, Ansley whipped the silk napkin from her lap and tossed it onto the table before pushing out of her chair and storming away, the heat of her anger creeping up her arms.  
-  
Ansley twiddled her thumbs nervously, her heart skipping a beat whenever the sound of footsteps passed the large doors of the lord general's office. Not long after she'd berated Mrs. Middleton and her friends, Ansley had been called upon by Cornwallis. It would mark only twice that Ansley had been asked to his office. The previous time she was with Wesley and it'd merely been introductions and Wesley's chance to exhibit her. Now she was alone.

Ansley had a faint idea that the visit was because of her behavior towards the women, but she wasn't so sure. Lord General Cornwallis wouldn't waste time on such matters. Instead of fathoming wild theories, Ansley cleared her mind and waited. But after ten minutes, she began to feel restless. Did the old man forget about her? Frustrated and annoyed, she straightened her spine to stand when she heard footsteps clack towards the door as it was opened by a valet. Cornwallis stepped in with a forced smile, nodding his head to Ansley as she rose evenly out of her chair and curtsied. Coming to her, Cornwallis took her proffered hand and kissed it lightly before gesturing that she sit. The older man sat comfortably in his grand chair behind his desk, leaning forward and crossing his hands over the polished wood.

"How are you this afternoon, Miss Parrish?" He asked cordially.

_Just get on with it, old man!_ Ansley instead answered with a cool smile followed by an inquiry as to how he slept. After such tiring pleasantries were made, the general started in.

"Miss Parrish," he began calmly, "I hate to keep you, so I'll make this brief," which really meant he was busy and wanted to be done with her as soon as possible, "I am a man that greatly treasures his family and their well-being…as well as those who marry into my family," he added thoughtfully, "and I find you to be a most wonderful young woman and my nephew seems quite happy with the arrangement…"

Ansley drew her face into a frown, trying her greatest to look genuinely confused as to why the general called her here. It seemed to work. Cornwallis almost looked guilty that he was even discussing this with her.

"But my nephew is also a very observant man, and while I'm not one to intervene, after listening to Wesley's recent complaints, I felt it my duty to speak with you."

Ansley made no expression, but inside, she was seething. Wesley went to his _uncle_ to complain about her? _Why the gutless, cowardly, insolent basta_—

"Now don't think otherwise, I regard you as a surprisingly erudite, lovely woman, but I also care a great deal for my family, as I've said."

"Milord, exactly what have I done that my fiancé has found so disagreeable?"

For a fleeting moment, Ansley frightfully wondered if the man somehow knew of her relationship with the colonel. Cornwallis took a breath, hesitating in his answer. Leaning back in his chair, the general tried to explain the delicate situation.

"He claims you are distant, difficult to get along with or please. Now I am quite aware that this was an arranged marriage, but goodness, it's been a year! The two of you are still incompatible?"

Ansley couldn't say anything. She came from a society that valued love second to a good match. For Wesley's advantage, the Parrishes weren't so much a popular name, but were independently wealthy, thanks to Ansley's grandfather. For the Parrishes' benefit, Wesley's relations were esteemed and highly thought of, not to mention rich. It was the perfect matchpolitically. As for that next equally important, yet often disregarded level, love was something only the few were lucky enough to possess. Ansley saw no love in her future life with Wesley, and they both knew so much. But again, it was not a part of the equation. Ansley's duty was to make her future husband happy (or at least have everyone believe he was), give him children, and to forever obey his whims until death. It was a grim outlook of the future and Ansley tried with all her might every day not to think about it.

Finally finding her voice, Ansley surprised herself with her answer. "Milord, if I were to spend a million years with your nephew, I still would not become…compatible with him."

His eyes bulged a little and Ansley decided to save herself from the cliff she'd just jumped off of. "But I understand my duty, milord, to serve him and to be as good a wife I can be to him. But that does not mean I will overly enjoy it."

To Ansley's surprise, Cornwallis smiled. Did she really fool him? Straightening his crisp, military jacket, he stood, as did Ansley. "Well, that is certainly good enough for me, Miss Parrish."  
-  
"Your uncle must care for you greatly," Ansley said, her tone deadpan as she worked the needle through the tight thread.

Wesley sneezed, mumbling something before he took his handkerchief and blew into it loudly. He wiped his nose roughly before answering. "I am his favorite nephew, don't forget," He reminded her, his voice more nasal than usual on account of his illness, "Pray tell, what did he say to you, anyway?"

Ansley halted her sewing, a passing thought of plunging the needle into Wesley's eye putting a ghost of a grin on her features. "Enough to know we need to talk."

Wesley snorted, a rather revolting sound considering his cold. "Isn't that ironic? Could it truly be that the stubborn Angelica Parrish actually _wants_ to have a civilized discussion with her fiancé? Good Lord, I should say this will make the papers!"

Ansley gave him a derogatory glare. "I don't appreciate your satire, Wesley."

"Apologies, my dear," he said cheerfully as he straightened his spine against the pillows that propped him up in his bed, "but you must excuse my shock. You've been nothing less than a holy terror since we've left England."

Ansley ignored the comment. "Do you want to marry me, Wesley?"

The question didn't throw the man off guard, nor seem to surprise him. He folded his handkerchief into another square, then blew his nose into it. "No, Angelica. In fact if I had such a choice, I'd elope with that charming dunce of a girl that I met at the ball."

Ansley's expression dropped a few degrees, his reply certainly not what she expected. Wesley scoffed.

"My dear girl, do not tell me you're actually disappointed by my answer? What makes you think I had any wish to marry you? You are much too headstrong. You see, I need a woman with a head full of air, that's simply how they should come," he said casually, "but, as I said, neither of us have any choice in the matter, and I must content myself with you. Seeing as I have no wish to anger my father, I am going to wed you and you are going to satisfy my parents with grandchildren."

Ansley wasn't sure how to answer. Should she be insulted? Saddened? Completely ecstatic that she wasn't the only one living a nightmare? Apparently, in Wesley's eyes, she appeared as though she was going to cry.

"Don't upset yourself, Angelica," the man advised sharply, giving her a once-over with a reproachful gaze, "I am sure there is a man out there somewhere who would not mind dealing with you and could possibly even love you." Ansley could hear the force it took for him to give such a weak compliment.

"I am not upset," she declared, "only completely distraught over the fact that neither of us want each other, yet we're stuck together for the rest of our lives."

"An unfortunate predicament indeed," Wesley lamented, nodding his head in agreement, "But as I've said in the past, and I will say again, for our parents' sake, we will try to appear happy and satisfied."

"And what of our sakes?" Ansley countered. When Wesley narrowed his eyes in confusion, she continued, "Wesley, though others may think we are content with our lives, we will live in misery. What will that do to us? What will it do to our children?"

Raising an eyebrow, Wesley dabbed at his nose again, sniffing loudly. "There is…one other possibility," he said hesitantly, "we could…_try_ to get along."

Ansley remembered the lord general's word he'd used. "You mean become…compatible?"

Sighing, Wesley folded his thin arms over his chest. "It certainly would not hurt the relationship," he confessed begrudgingly, "If you are willing to try, then, I will also."

This was an entirely new concept. Try to get along with Wesley? Such a thing she hadn't even fathomed. Her thoughts strayed to Tavington suddenly. Remembering her vow to break it off with him, she pushed his face from her mind. This was reality. She could not have Tavington, and he could not have her. Ansley was aware of his letter folded neatly in the pocket under he skirt. The next time she was alone, she'd burn it.

"Well, are you willing?" Wesley said suddenly.

Nearly pricking herself with the needle, Ansley put the embroidery aside. Speaking honestly, she replied. "Yes…I am willing."

**-**

**(A/N)** Aye, yi, yi. Heartbreak ensues! I'm hoping the next chapter won't take nearly as long as it did to write this one. This chapter was pretty important, as it's going to set off a series of very important events. Thanks for reading!

**Jeangray666:** LoL, aw, don't feel betrayed. This is Tavington we're talking about, he'll come back to you eventually:D. Thanks bunches for reading!

**Dude-monkey:** (slaps forehead) I didn't even think about the sun thing. Wow. Thank you for pointing it out, though, if I ever do a scene like that again in a different story, I'll make sure it's in California or something', lol. Thank you muchly for reading and reviewing!

**Tigerchild:** Yes, "action" is always fun, lol. I admit though, I'm really not used to writing, ahem, "action" so please tell me if something sounds, you know, off, or inaccurate the next time :). Thank you bunches for reading!

**FreakinIdiot06:** Yeah, I figured I'd give the guy a chance. But it's not going to be pure fluff throughout the whole story, he's still a rough and tough soldier and I want everyone to realize that he's not always such a nice guy! Thank you muchly for reading and reviewing!

**The Kitten:** cringe Wow, I can actually hear you screaming all that, lol. Well, I guess you're going to just hafta keep reading to see what my muse conjures up. Buahahahaha! Ah, don't worry, someday your prince will come, er, prince of darkness, or whatever :D. Thanks for reading, Katie :).

**Corri:** I dunno if you got up to this point, but if you did, then here's your review response! First, thanks! I love graveyards in general and a scene with Tavy's fiancée and Martin has been floating around my head for sooo long, and I thought it appropriate amongst graves. Thank you so much, though I find Martin reeeally difficult to write and I'm still not completely satisfied with the end result, but it will do for now. Thank you again for reading!

**Erik's Siren**: Yay! I'm glad you didn't pass it up! I don't particularly like the first few chapters, I look back and cringe at some parts, so I'm quite happy you continued to read! Oh, I know, Wesley is quite dumb, but necessary, especially later on in the story. LXG? Nope, I haven't seen it. But the scene definitely sounds appropriate for Wesley, lol. Oh, I know, Tavy is delicious. I liked Gabriel first when I saw the movie, then my weird liking for bad boys moved my attention to Tavy, hehe. But I certainly did not like Gabriel dying. Maybe severely hurt, but DEAD? I thought that was mean of the writers sniff. Thank you so much for reading! Oooh, well, you're the first to have claim of the sexy guard, so go ahead, knock yourself out:D. Thank you!


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